The Beginning of Love
by Hogwarts Online II
Summary: The first collaboration by the Hogwarts Online Forum. The beginning of love prompt is in honour of the forum's own beginning in April. Each chapter is by a different author and deals with a different character or pairing. Please read and review!
1. Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape

_This is the first collaboration by the Hogwarts Online Forum. Each chapter is by a different author and is based on the prompt "The Beginning of Love"._

_Please read, enjoy and review!_

_Anything you recognise is not ours, but merely borrowed from JK Rowling._

* * *

**The Bed She Made**

_(Eileen Prince/Tobias Snape)_

_by _

_FirstYear (Gryffindor)_

Eileen walked along the pavement keeping her eyes downcast and her arms clasped close to her body, fighting back tears of frustration and disappointment. She had been to all the shops, and had even asked her aunts for a pair of silk stockings, only to receive the same look of sadness and a shake of their heads.

She would be the only girl at the dance with bare legs, if she chose to go at all. It wasn't as if she had a date, she didn't, but she wanted to go anyway. She wanted to dance. She wanted someone to sweep her off her feet, someone who liked her for her, and not only her name. She wanted to be like the other girls who oohed and ahhed and talked about their first kiss, how wonderful it was, how she had melted into her lover's arms and how he had whispered into her ear.

Now, she would look like nothing more than a poor relation, a stupid silly girl that did not even know how to dress properly or was too lazy to care. Madam Malkin had shown her leg oil, and assured her that if applied correctly no one would know the difference. Eileen knew she was lying, lying to make a sale, secretly laughing at the poor little pureblood that would look a fool with oiled legs and pretend stockings.

Before she knew it, she was at the far end of the Alley, and making a quick decision, transfigured her robes into a jumper, walked through The Leaky Cauldron to step out into the streets of London. She knew where to go, she had been to the shops many times, and although her mother had insisted they did not have silk stockings she knew one of the many shops in the area would.

"Not for some time now," the sales clerk cocked an eyebrow at her. "We have tights, if you wear a long dress they may work, or you can just …"

"No. Do you know somewhere else? I've already been everyplace I know of."

"Not since the war heated up. We used to get a few pair now and then, but nothing for a year now. Most of us just use an eyebrow pencil, you know, just draw on the seam."

"Thanks," Eileen said flatly, as she walked outside and worried her lip at the quickly fading sun.

She walked toward the taxi queue as a blast of sirens filled the air. Throwing her hands over her ears, she spun around, seeing lights click off and the city become a blur of rushing late night shoppers, and tenants running from their apartment buildings. Spinning back to the taxis, she watched as the drivers stepped out and started following the rest, across the road and underground.

"Miss?" One of the cabbies grabbed her arm. "Come, this way. It's probably another false alarm, but can't be too sure."

"What? What is happening?"

"You must be new here?" he smirked. "You one of those yanks?"

"Yanks?"

"Yeah, from… where are you from?"

"I live…away…out in the country."

"You don't have air raids?" he asked, looking up and down the street before stepping off the curb, pulling her along behind him.

"No." She tugged against him, making him yank her harder, as he nearly dragged her across the road.

"Well, we do here. Bloody hell, three this week alone."

"Air raid? I…I need to get back."

"What? You live in a fucking convent or something? Yeah, an air raid. Now get your arse down there and shut up."

Eileen stumbled down the steps, guided by men wearing arm- bands and funny hats, hard and round. Once at the bottom of the staircase she turned to run back up, when the taxi driver pushed her forward until he found a place next to the wall.

"Sit," he frowned, pointing to the dirty floor, "could last a few minutes or we may be here all night."

"I can't," she whined, putting her back to the wall and sliding down to the floor. "I'm going to a dance. I have to get ready."

"Dance?" he snorted. "Not around here you ain't. What school around here still has dances?"

"I didn't say it was a school dance." She pouted, folding her arms over her chest.

He laughed and slid down to sit next to her. "With that god awful uniform I'd guess you go to one of those catholic schools. Didn't think they approved of dances."

"It is a … a private school… you wouldn't have heard of it," she sighed. "Guess it doesn't matter anyway."

"There'll be another one," he said more kindly, seeing her face crumble.

"No, there won't be," she sniffed, running her sleeve over her face. "I won't be going back next year. This is my last one."

"You quitting?"

She looked up at him and shook her head, wondering if this Muggle would understand. "No, I…this is my last year…I have to get married."

"Oh," he said flatly, his eyes going to her stomach. "Your boyfriend, is he in the war?"

"I don't have one."

He snapped his eyes up to hers and grinned. "Sorry, I just assumed when you said you _had _to that…well you know."

"No, what?"

"You know." He looked around uncomfortably and squirmed to sit up straighter. "I thought you had a bun in the oven."

"I said I had to get married, not that my folks were going to kill me," she spat.

Eileen looked up with the rest of people in the underground bunker as the sound of lumbering planes and retorts filled the air. She gasped as the ground around her shook, and tried to get to her feet, panicking, knowing they could be trapped, only to have him pull her back down.

"Whoa, girl," he laughed. "Its fine, nothing can get you down here." He put his hand on the top of her head, pushing it down until she was looking at him and not the cracked ceiling.

"Seems we are going to be stuck here a long time," he sighed as she whimpered and sucked in her lower lip, her eyes filling with tears. Gently pulling her up to his lap, he pushed her head down to his shoulder. "Now, I'll go first. My name is Tobias Snape. Yep, not a great name. I would guess yours is better, but we will get to that. Let me tell you about myself and then it's your turn."

She didn't hear the beginning of his story, fighting to hear the planes, learning the sound of sudden silence that came a few seconds before the earth trembled and the dust in the tunnel swirled up in clouds so thick she knew her clothes would be filthy. His voice didn't waiver, the only indication that he too could hear the pending explosion come closer was a gentle tightening of the hold he had on her. She tipped her head up and watched his profile, realizing that he was talking just to calm her.

After a time she relaxed and leaned on his chest, resting her head on his shoulder as her sobs diminished and she could listen to what he said. He had finished school, and tried to … to enlist… she was confused and filed that word in the back of her mind to look up later. His left eardrum had never healed, he told her, tipping his head down and grinning at her. So instead of…enlisting…he came here to drive until the regular cabbies came back from the war and the factory he normally worked at could be repaired.

"Good money in it," he nodded knowingly. "Studied the maps and I can get you from one end of this bloody hell hole to the next faster than any other cabbie out there. Get good tips I do. Now, it's your turn."

She sat up straight, feeling embarrassed at the realization that she had been sitting on a stranger's lap, crying into his neck. Others in the area were beginning to stand and walk toward the stairs. She blushed and slid off his lap, resting on her knees next to him.

"I'm Eileen, Eileen Prince."

"Fine name," he smirked. "It's nice to at least know the name of the girl I just spent the night with."

"Can we go out now?"

"Wait for the all clear," he nodded and stood up, brushing off his trousers, "any minute now."

"How bad do you think it is?"

"Not too, the factories are a ways out. I think they just toss one into us every once in a while to keep us on our toes. But...these? Nah…small ones they were."

"Mum's going to kill me," Eileen said as she jumped up. "I've been out all night and… she is going to kill me."

"We can find a phone."

"She…she doesn't have one."

"Anything close? When I call my mum I leave a message at the grocers."

"No, we…we are too far out," she bit her lip and pulled her jumper close. "I look a mess."

"Eileen, look around, so does everyone else," he said softly, frowning at her. "You really don't know about any of this, do you?"

She shook her head adamantly, feeling ready to cry again and turned away from him as a shrill siren started. Seeing everyone starting out, she ran up the stairs and into the street, knowing that this was the 'all clear' he had spoken of. She fell on her knees as the fresh air filled her lungs, and feeling her hands begin to shake was glad when Tobias squatted down next to her.

"Come on kid, it's over. You're safe now."

"Until my folks … yeah," she staggered to her feet and tried to smile at him. "Thank you, Mr. Snape. I need to…"

"Mr. Snape?" he laughed, full throated and deep. "I am not that much older than you. You make me sound like my father."

"I'm seventeen." She lifted her head proudly, feeling insulted that he should laugh at her. "Furthermore, we have not been properly introduced."

"Well…la-de-da," he sneered at her. "Kind of uppity now that you don't need me."

"I am not." She scowled at him.

"Seventeen, huh?" He stepped back, appraised her body, grinning as he walked around her. "Looks sixteen to me."

"I'll be seventeen next month," she stammered. "And what about you, Mr- you- are-too –uppity-for-me?"

"Never said you were _too _uppity, said you were kind-a-uppity. There's a difference you know."

"I asked you a question." She looked at him defiantly.

"Twenty-four, just about the right age for an almost seventeen. When you _are_ seventeen we could try this again."

"Try what again?" She asked, confused at his words but not his smirk.

"Spending the night together," he said honestly, enjoying the look of shock and surprise on her face. "Seriously, you never did tell me your story."

"I have to get home." She turned to hurry away, hearing him call out to her that he would be at the same place every night until the bloody war ended. She heard his laughter, and wondered if she would have the nerve to come back.

.

.

She had been banished to her room, forbidden to go out for a full week when she had finally made it home. It was only at her mother's insistence that she'd had no choice but to stay until the all clear was given that the fighting and arguing had calmed down.

"After all," she had said, more then a hint of exasperation in her voice, "we couldn't very well have her Apparating in front of a bunch of Muggles."

Now, Eileen sat on the windowsill, her forehead pressed against the glass, wishing she was back in school and that she had never grown old enough to marry. She reached over to her desk and grabbed a piece of parchment, fanning her face with it as she leaned her head back against the window frame. The summer heat had settled over the city, refusing to leave even with the gentle breeze that moved the tree branches and rustled the bushes.

It wasn't that she didn't _want _to get married. She just wanted to find her own husband the way some of the girls at school did. Her mother had acted put out and asked her pointedly who else would want such an unlovely girl as she. Eileen turned back to the window and locked her eyes with the girl in the reflection, and wished that she were beautiful. _Beautiful enough to turn a man's head and want me for more than my name,_ she thought, tipping her chin just enough to see her face in profile and sighed loudly.

"Because you are a Prince!" Her father's angry voice still echoed in her mind.

"Please? Just a year, give me a year to myself, please, Papa. At least give me the summer!"

"What in Merlin's name will change in a few months? He is willing to take you sight unseen and give you children, what more do you want?"

In the end he had relented, allowing a postponement until the holidays, forcing her to write her intended a letter, setting the new date and explaining that with the war raging in Germany she felt unsafe to travel such a distance. She had paced the floor anxiously waiting for the return post, glad and relieved when he had so easily agreed. She reread the missive, holding a small picture he had sent under the parchment, and judged that he wanted this no more than she did and would be enjoying his freedom as she planned to find hers.

She held his picture up to the light and studied his face and eyes. He was a large man, as old as her father, but his eyes seemed kinder, his smile…real. She suddenly thought of this large beefy man leaning over her in bed and gasped, dropping the picture and running downstairs.

"I have shopping to do," she muttered as she yanked her handbag off the hook by the back door.

"What do you need that for," her mother nodded to the handbag, her face growing hard. "I told you to stay away from the Muggle cities."

"I wanted to look at lace, all they have in Diagon is that old fashioned stuff…I want real lace for my wedding. I…I thought something from Germany may be fitting."

"With the war, there may not be anything worthwhile," he mother said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I know…then I thought of sewing those little pearls across the bodice. Not real pearls, but they have tiny little beads that look the same. It shouldn't cost much."

Her mother nodded slowly, remembering the picture she had seen in a magazine. "Get extra, it will take more than you think."

"Sure," Eileen muttered as she headed to the door, wondering what time Tobias started work, or if he would have passengers and be unable to talk.

She waited by the queue, feeling the eyes of the other drivers watching her, knowing that some of them had been here the night of the air raid and had seen her in tears. She leaned against the wall of a near by building and waited until she saw him drive by and pull into the back of the line.

"Hey, Eileen," he shouted as he rolled down his window. "Over here."

She hugged her handbag to her chest and hurried to the curbside, bending over and peeking in the window at him. "Did you mean it? You know, when you said I should come see you?"

"Sure." He grinned at her and then reached across the front seat and opened the door. "Hop in. You can sit here 'til I'm up again."

She smiled widely and slid in next to him, sitting sideways to see him better. "So, Tobias, since we are on a first name basis you may call me Elle."

"Thought you would be an old married lady by now," he joked, quirking his eyebrow at her and grinning.

"I don't want to talk about that," she said firmly. "I want to tell you my story now. You said it would be my turn."

"Yeah," he said cautiously. "Just don't go telling me some shite. I don't play games."

"Games?"

"You know, don't go trying to impress me with how smart you are, or all the important people you know, or stuff like that." He turned his face from her and spat out the window, sitting up straight and turning to sit sideways as well. "If I want a bitch to tell me lies I can get one on any corner."

"I …" she stammered, and reached for the door handle, ready to leave.

"Hey, I didn't mean it that way. It's just since I came to the city…girls are … you know, different down here. They tell me what they think I want to hear and then put the hit on me."

"I…I don't understand," she sighed. "Maybe I should leave."

"The hit, you know, wanting me to buy them stuff."

"I don't want anything," she said softly. "Well, maybe … just a day out. You know, away from my folks. I just thought I would look you up."

"You are a strange one," he laughed, draping one arm over the back of the seat, digging out a pack of cigarettes with the other. "Fag?"

"No, no thank you." She watched him tap one out of the package, stick it between his teeth and then strike a match, using one hand, and take a deep drag.

"So, what did you have in mind?"

"I don't know…just…talk I guess."

"I get off work at seven. How about stopping for a drink or two?"

"As long as it isn't underground during an air raid I think I may like that," she said in a rush, glad that he was not sending her away. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"If I thought you were I wouldn't ask you out," he said evenly. "Now, run off, got to get back to work and there are a couple of fares up there."

"Sure," she said, opening the door and stepping out. "Should I meet you back here?"

"Yeah," he said, his eyes travelling down her body, "put on something nice."

She nodded and closed the door, watching the taxi pull forward and two businessmen in suits glance at her before jumping in the back, and then watched the black car pull away from the curb.

She had time to finish her shopping and to find a secluded place to transfigure her clothes. Feeling her neck begin to turn red, she stifled a grin as she thought of the tall, dark haired almost stranger that wanted to take her out for drinks.

_Drinks_, she thought_, Merlin, now what?_ Suddenly feeling younger than her seventeen years, she started toward the shop, determined that she could do this.

She bought the beads she had come for, tucked them in her handbag and crossed the road to gaze at the summer frocks that were draped over slim bodied manikins in the shop's window. The heavy black drapes, pulled to the side, served as a reminder of what could happen in this world. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she glanced anxiously up to the sky, feeling exposed and alone, wondering if the sirens started…would he come.

In an act of bravery, so alien to her, she lifted her chin and pulled open the door. If she bought the dress she would always have it, even in Germany, married to a man that would not care, she would always have a reminder of this one day. Even at her cold winter wedding, she would have this.

_Five months_, she thought as she spun in front of the mirror, feeling the full skirt swirl and whisper against her bare legs, _five months more_.

"It is quite lovely on you," the sales lady smiled. "I would go a size smaller. You can get away with it you know."

"I wish I had stockings," she sighed, looking over her shoulder into the full-length mirror.

"Are you wearing it tonight?"

"Yes, I … I want to wear it out. You can put my old clothes in a bag, but… I'll try on the smaller one."

"Step up," she pointed to a chair, "let me paint on your stockings."

Eileen felt all grown up as she sauntered to the taxi queue, seeing Tobias leaning against the boot, talking to his replacement. Her breath caught as he saw her, and stood up straight, flicking his cigarette butt into the street and smirking at her. Running to meet her in the middle of the street, he took her arm and led her back to the curb.

"Wow," he whispered, leaning down to her ear. "Seems that little schoolgirl went home."

"You like it?"

"Yes, yes I do." He licked his lips and looked down the street, seeing a small pub and started pulling her toward it. "I was going to take you someplace else, but with you looking like this I don't think so."

She would later think of the walk to the pub, how her hand had been tucked into his elbow, how his eyes had flickered from the pavement to her, the gentle way he had squeezed her hand and the way his face had darkened in what she had assumed was desire.

In the coming years, when things got too much for her to handle, she would remember the way he had slid into the booth next to her, his hand under the table as he had stroked and kneaded her leg and repeatedly leaned down to kiss the outer shell of her ear. She would remember his smell, sweaty and sweet, smoky and harsh, and the way he had apologised for not taking time to shower and change before their date.

When she held an ice pack to her cheek, to take down the swelling from one more blow from his beefy hand, roughened and strengthened by his work in the mill, she would remember how he had tenderly carried her upstairs and had laid her down.

However, what she would remember the most, years later as she buried him in a pauper's grave, north of Spinner's End, was the way she had clung to him. Skin against skin, her nails digging into his back, crying out her love for him and the way he had only closed his eyes, lowered his head and had come to completion without repeating her words.


	2. Hermione Granger and Books

**This Certain Booklover**

_(Hermione Granger/books)_

_by _

_Eccentric11 (Gryffindor)_

"Hey Lavender, have you got anything to wear for the Yule Ball yet?"

"Maybe, but I'll be spending my time in Hogsmeade browsing for more choices this weekend."

"Ooo… Can I come? I'll bring Padma, we'll help you choose as well as find ourselves something to wear."

"Sure, sure." Lavender said while getting ready for bed. Then she looked at Hermione, making sure she's asleep before talking again, "Umm, Parvati? Do you think we should ask Hermione to come too?"

"You can if you want to, but just so you know, she would immerse herself in a book for the whole journey. She won't even talk to us." Parvati whispered.

"Good point. I don't really get what's with her and books." Lavender looked skeptical.

"Yeah, go ask her, you'll end up being hexed." Parvati hugged herself with a blanket.

"Good thing she's asleep by now." Lavender closed her eyes.

…Too bad she's wrong.

Early next morning, Hermione woke up with a start and fumble around for a mirror. Her eyes are still puffy and red, a result of all her sobbing last night. She couldn't help it anymore, she just don't get it. Why can't people see the other side of her? A side people would like her for, instead of a side they only took advantage of. She knows a lot of people dislike her, and as Hermione don't get many others around her, others also don't get Hermione in return.

She opened her drawer and found a small notebook, a notebook she hasn't opened again since her first year. In it she kept her neat scribbles, a journal, as everyone else might call it. She opened the first page and read through it,

_"Today is Christmas. I walked down the stairs and I crossed my fingers, hoping I got something from my wish-list (which includes that new dress I saw in Linda's shop, a new version of the polaroid camera, and also a brand new stationery not even my friends have already.). But instead, I got a pile of books. I got all sorts of classic novels, and also this one I'm writing on (I'm planning to use as a journal). They were amazing, and now I'm going to replace my shelf of children books with novels. I can't wait to see my friends' reaction when I tell them about it."_ Hermione closed the book, remembering what happened the time she told her friends about her books, no one even bothered to sit with her during lunch anymore. She spent the last 5 months of her muggle school being a total loner and her books are her only company. She grew very fond of them, as if they are the only ones that would be with her until the end.

Hermione put her 'journal' back in the drawer and took out an advanced charms book. She hesitated for a moment, debating with herself. But her heart won, she carries on with the book.

Today was the Hogsmeade Weekend most girls (and hardly any boys) are waiting for. Hermione sat on the floor, leaning on her bed.

"Parvati! Quick! We don't want to waste our time, do we?" Lavender bellowed while hastily putting stuffs into her bag and then brushing her hair.

"Hang on a moment!" Parvati replied. Hermione sighed. She stood up, straighten her clothes and head to the dormitory door to go and see Harry and Ron. But she then decided no one else can change how people see her. If she wants people to like her, she'll have to do it by herself. She turned around,

"Umm, Parvati? Lavender? Do you mind if I join you guys in Hogsmeade? I haven't got a dress for the Yule Ball, and I'll need your opinion." she gulped.

"Well…" Lavender looked at Parvati.

"You may." Parvati said curtly. "If you really want to." she added in a rush.

"I do, I really do. Just give me a minute to get ready. Thank you guys." Hermione hugged Parvati, then Lavender, much to their astonishment.

"Yeah, no problem, Hermione." Lavender smiled. "Meet you at the Great Hall, okay?"

"Sure." Hermione grinned. She heaved a sigh of relief. She walks back to her four-poster bed and took out an empty bag. She opens her drawers, took a few galleons, sickles, and knuts, then made sure she still have her wand in her pocket. Last but not least, she took her book. Just in case.

She's going to prove to her friends that she is more than just books, but that doesn't mean she have to leave what she really love.

* * *

_(credit for camera facts goes to my dear friend.)_


	3. Bellatrix LeStrange and Power

**Bella's Beginning**

_(Bellatrix LeStrange/power)_

_by _

_GrimmauldPhoenix (Hufflepuff)_

Andromeda was always the smart one.

Narcissa was always the beautiful one.

And as a child, Bellatrix soon became accustomed to being 'the other one'.

As time went by, she would try her hardest to ignore the sharp pain in her chest when she heard her mother boasting of Narcissa's beauty to all her friends.

She tried to pretend it didn't bother her every time Andromeda impressed their father with her quick wit and keen mind.

She would try, and she would fail. She longed for something that would make her special like the other two.

Then one day, when she was nine years old her father took her to Knockturn Alley for the first time.

Honoured that her father would choose her to accompany him, she made sure to be on her best behaviour.

As instructed she waited outside the apothecary as he went in and about his business.

Just as she had been beginning to grow tired, a wizard in grey tattered robes approached her.

As a Black, her mother had always told her the perils of associating with the lower class in society, and as such Bellatrix tried to ignore the man as he spoke to her.

As he grew closer, she turned away from him, wishing desperately for her father to emerge, but knowing better than to disobey a direct order.

Just as she was about to turn and run, a scarred arm reached forth to her as the man whispered into her ear "What a little treasure".

His hand barely touched her when all of a sudden, the door of the apothecary burst open and out swept an enraged Cygnus Black.

He stood tall in the finest robes of black and red, a commanding figure.

She would never forget that moment. Gazing into her father's eyes, it was the first time she ever witnessed pure rage.

It was also the first time she saw had seen a face contorted by fear.

The stranger appeared to wilt before the imposing stature of her father, and began muttering apologies.

Before she could see anymore she was pulled into the store by Mr. Derwent, who wore an expression she did not yet recognise.

She would later come to realise that it was one of a resigned state.

Her father returned to collect her fifteen minutes later, and never once spoke of the incident.

She would always remember that day, as the day her love affair with gaining power began.

For if she was the powerful one, she reasoned, she would no longer be the 'other one'.


	4. Severus Snape and Lily Evans I

**Lily**

_(Severus Snape/Lily Evans)_

_by _

_titania_took (Gryffindor)_

The flower of funerals, and death. He knows this. He does not care.

Rose, the one they say is for love, stands next to her. They say she is pretty. Some even venture as far as stunning. But Severus cannot understand how anyone could see her that way when she is compared to the beauty that is Lily Evans. He can hardly see her at all.

For him, Lily is synonymous to love.

What life is there without Lily?

She has a sister called Petunia. A plain, boring name for a plain, boring muggle. And that is where his confusion starts. Lily contradicts everything he has been taught. She is a Gryffindor. She is a mudblood, and yet he it pains him to use that name on her, even in just a passing thought. And yet she is brilliant, she is intelligent, she is beautiful, she is the best in their class at most everything, and he practically worships the ground she stands on.

He takes another sip from the glass of Firewhisky he is nursing. Butterbeer is all very well for having a good time, but for drowning your sorrows it is about as effective as fizzy pumpkin juice. And a life with as many sorrows as his calls for something a lot stronger. For he is not the only one who professes to love Lily. There is also James Potter.

James Potter, whose name is to him synonymous to Jerk.

He is sitting over there, across the other side of the Three Broomsticks, laughing raucously with his friends. His partners in crime, and in torturing whoever accidentally happens to look at them the wrong way. He is constantly harassing Lily, even when it has been made quite clearly obvious that she decidedly does not return his affections. He is a jerk to her, and a jerk to everyone he comes across, and a jerk with real passion to him.

Like now, when he is caught staring (and maybe glaring slightly) at him making blatantly obvious and clearly unwanted passes at _his_ Lily. Even if she doesn't like him either.

There is a loud crash, and the glass he is holding shatters into about as many pieces as there are galleons in Gringotts Bank. He looks up in horror, several shards embedded into his face, and many more in his hands.

Lily, his perfect Lily, is screaming at the jerk, and he catches some of her furious rant, screeching about how dangerous it was, and how the glass could have gotten into his eyes, and how there was no actual need for him to do that and how he just goes around needlessly hurting people and how much she hates it and she hates him. And the jerk just sits there gazing nonchalantly back, and he doesn't care. Not even when the woman he claims to love is yelling at him to stop can he think about anything but himself and his over-inflated ego.

Potter is exactly what he has been told Gryffindors are like: arrogant bastards who strut around the school thinking they own it all, and who get away with everything because they're _Gryffindors_. And they say only Slytherin produces dark wizards. He is truly terrified of the monster Potter is going to become when he grows up. What did any of his victims do that he has the right to continually subject them to such suffering? What did _he_ do for him to torment him so?

And then she is there, and his world goes slightly fuzzy and confusing, because why is she here? Why does she care? He knows she doesn't love him back, will never love him back, and has long given up hope of trying, and that makes even this brief moment tinged with sadness.

She murmurs comforting nothings into his ear, and takes him by the hand and leads him all the way back to the hospital wing. Because this is Lily, and she would do this for anyone, and that thought makes him even sadder. He thinks he is in shock, and not just from the glass.

This is the longest they have ever spoken without him somehow offending her. Mostly because he hasn't yet spoken much. But this is one of the many wonderful things about Lily. She forgives you. Perfect in every way. He truly does not understand why people think of the rose as the symbol of love, when it is quite clearly a lily.

"Don't let that jerk get to you," she whispers as she leaves, having assured that he was safely in the nurse's custody, and he smiles at the knowledge that she thinks the same way as he does. And as he watches her retreating form, he is reminded of why he loves her, and decides that just having someone as amazing as Lily Evans in his life is well worth the pain of loving her. Even if he knows that that love will be forever unrequited.


	5. Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott

**Silver Smoke**

_(Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott)_

_by_

_Blonde_Pickle_Mule (Hufflepuff)_

For Neville, it all started with her hair.

In the middle of the last DA meeting before Christmas everyone was learning the Patronus charm which Neville had mastered quite quickly, much to his surprise. Harry had given him the task of helping the people struggling and he was walking up and down the rows of people wondering how to approach them.

Some were getting very frustrated- throwing their wands or stamping their feet angrily. Neville didn't really want to approach _them_, he'd learnt that when people stamped their foot you'd get your head chewed off if you spoke to them. Oh the joys of living with his Grandmother.

Just as he was about to go sit in a corner Neville spotted her. Hannah Abbott was standing in the corner of the room waving her hand dispairingly as nothing but silver smoke filtered out of her wand. The poor girl's hair was hanging round her face wildly and her mouth was curled up in a grimace. Neville could see she was working herself up and decided he would go and help her. Being not the brightest of people when it came to spells, he knew just how she was feeling.

"Hey Hannah, you look like you could use some help." he stuttered slightly in the middle of the sentence but still gave what he hoped what was an encouraging smile.

Hannah sighed and blew a strand of brown hair out of her eyes.  
"Please. Tell me how to do this."

Nervously, Neville stepped beside her and bit his lip for a moment. He wasn't sure what on earth he was meant to say. Finally he gingerly took a hold on her wrist and twisted the way her wand was being held.

"The wand point has to be pointing upwards and the inside of your wrist facing left." He said gently, hoping Hannah didn't think he was telling her off. Luckily she just grimaced and did as he instructed. "Now try again and see if it gets any easier."

Neville watched as Hannah gripped her wand tighter, and said in a determined voice "Expecto Patronum!"

More silver mist came out the wand tip, but this time there was more of it. Hannah glared at it. "Hey, don't give up yet! When you're casting the spell, try waving your wand a little bit harder."

The girl glared at him for a moment while Neville squirmed. Then she flattened out her face and smiled wryly at him. "Sorry, I'm just finding this hard."

Then before he could tell her it was fine she had done the spell again, and this time the mist centered in one place.  
"I'm sure there's something I've forgotten..." Neville mused. "Oh yes! You have to think of something happy, and hold onto the memory. How did I forget that?"

Hannah giggled at him before focusing on the spell again. A relaxed look came over her face and she raised the wand again. "Expecto Patronum."  
Her voice was a lot softer than before but silver erupted from her wand tip in the form of a Badger. Hannah's eyes shot open in wonderment and she watched the creature moving along the floor with a stunned expression. Light from the Patronus reflected in her long, dark hair and set her chocolate eyes alight.

And that was when Neville felt a small stirring in his heart as he realised just how pretty Hannah actually was. Then she turned to him with a wide smile that this time reached her eyes.

"Oh thankyou Neville! Look at him, he's beautiful!" And she hugged him. Neville was rooted to the spot for a moment, quite shocked. But then he awkwardly hugged her back and gave her a shy smile.

"That's alright. I was glad to help." Then she released him and sat down on one of the cushions.

"You're a good teacher you know. You should try it one day." Now Hannah's hair was fanned out around her like a cloak as she grinned and Neville blushed.

"M-Maybe..." He tripped over his words, blushing even harder. Hannah giggled again.

"Now off you go Professor, I'm sure other people need help. Actually, I think Creevey's about to set fire to the wardrobe." As Neville hurried off to Colin and extinguished his robes that had caught alight, he couldn't help but think to himself.

_Hannah is a very pretty name. _


	6. Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass

**and oh, you shine  
**when i feel like i'm lost, something tells me you're here with me

_(TheodoreNott/Daphne Greengrass and Theodore's father/Gryffindor)_

_by_

_s_i_l_v_e_r_a_u_r_o_r_a (Slytherin)_

_1_

He first sees her on Platform 9¾ on the first day of his First Year at Hogwarts, with purple flowers in her hair and a big smile on her face, and he turns round and says to his father, "Dad, I'm going to marry her one day."

His father smiles ruefully and claps his young son on the shoulder.

"Then here's hoping she's a pureblood, son."

_2_

He approaches her compartment a trifle nervously, sliding inside and feeling five pairs of eyes turn towards him instantly.

"Hello," he says, trying to act as confident as possible. "I'm Theodore Nott."

A small boy with shaggy black hair grins at him from the corner next to the window.

"Hello, Nott. Soleus Lestrange, never at your service. That's my sister Verity and the vacant-looking female next to her is Pansy Parkinson."

Pansy Parkinson directs a glare firmly at Soleus and folds her arms, looking impressively ferocious for someone so short. "Speak for yourself, Lestrange."

"Oh, stop fighting," another voice says, and Theo turns to see _her _sitting by the door, patting the seat next to her and smiling warmly. "Take a seat, Theodore. I'm Daphne Greengrass."

In that moment he is like a dying man seeing an angel come to lead him home, so he dumbly takes the proffered seat and tries not to stare at her overly.

_3_

She moves forward to be sorted, and even as the thrill of terror washes through him at the unthinkable prospect of not being in Slytherin, his gaze follows her and he thinks that she walks kind of like she's dancing. Her long blonde hair with the pretty purple flowers shines in the flickering light of the torches, and the Sorting Hat slips over her eyes so all he can see is her little rosebud mouth, puckered into a small line of worry.

"_SLYTHERIN_!" the Hat roars enthusiastically, and Theo beams and claps excitedly along with the table on the far side of the Great Hall. He watches a girl called Alaya Moon get sorted into Slytherin alongside Daphne, right after the Lestrange twins, and then a small, pointy-looking blonde boy he recognises from a party his father once threw also gets put in Slytherin.

Finally it is his turn, and he stumbles forwards towards the seat. His mind is full of his family and Daphne and fear and Daphne and the hat barely touches his head before it shrieks out "_SLYTHERIN_!"

The worry dissipates instantly and he grins as he hurries down to the Slytherin table and takes his seat alongside his angel. She throws her arms around his neck and laughs and gives him a shy kiss on the cheek.

"I'm so glad you're here, Theo," she tells him, and as he goes beet-red he can't help the stupidly doofy grin that spreads across his face.

_4_

They shortly become inseparable. They're still a little shy at first but then one night she comes running into the common room, her hair a mess and her cheeks stained with tears, and she runs straight to him and scrambles into his embrace.

"What happened?" he exclaims, hugging so tightly he fears he'll break her.

She is almost incoherent but he gets a garbled story about her being in the library and someone charming all the books to fall on top of her and her being told off and made to clear them up, and Soleus hurries across the room and awkwardly pats her on the back.

"We'll get 'em back, Daph," he promises fiercely, and Theo sees a hint of delighted wildness in his eyes. "We'll teach 'em not to pick on our girl."

And suddenly Theo's eyes connect with Soleus', and he realises that maybe there's someone else under Daphne's spell.

But it's him she ran to, remember, and it's him who she makes carry her up the stairs and tuck her into bed.

_5_

Soleus appears to get over Daphne pretty quickly and the two boys become fast friends. Theo's relationship with Soleus is different from his relationship with Daphne. With Soleus it is all about competition and banter and doing stupid things while laughing madly. With Daphne it is tenderness and light teasing and comfort.

"So why don't you ever write to your family?" she asks one night, her feet propped in his lap as he works on a potions essay. He glances over at her and her eyes are glittering in the firelight and her face is full of contentment.

"I don't have any brothers or sister and my parents don't really care what I'm up to as long as I get good grades," he explains, smiling ruefully over at her. "But it's not too bad, it means I have more time to work on school stuff."

"I can't imagine not having a sister," she says, laying down the quill she'd been using to write her letter. "It would be so _quiet._"

"Peaceful," he corrects, and she grins impishly at him, poking him in the stomach with her foot.

"You only say that 'cause you're jealous."

"Why would I need siblings when I've got you?" he asks, and he really sort of means it. From what he's seen, siblings are there for arguing with and loving despite everything and keeping you on your toes by infuriating you, and that's what Daphne is for him.

(Except the love is an entirely different type with her.)

_6_

The summer without her is a killer, but the moment he steps through onto Platform 9¾ to begin his second year at Hogwarts she barrels into his arms and squeals with joy as he swings her around.

"Theodore," his father warns in a low voice, "people are staring."

With that in mind he gently sets Daphne down and instead picks up her hand, placing a kiss on the back of it and then winking at her when his father glances away.

"It's so good to see you, Theo," she says as they start moving towards the train, and he smiles and produces a small purple flower from his back pocket, tucking it tenderly into her hair.

"You too," he replies, and she giggles and hugs him again, and he doesn't at all care that people are staring.

He _likes _the staring. He _likes _them seeing that he means a lot to Daphne Greengrass . He likes it a lot.

_7_

She starts going out for a jog first thing in the morning and like the loyal friend he is he accompanies her and their breath puffs out in front of them as they run languorously around the lake.

"This is crazy," he comments through gasps for breath the first morning they do it.

"This is healthy," she shoots back with a grin, and he elbows her in the side and gets into his stride.

_8_

By the end of the term he can outpace her easily but she has far more stamina than him (she always has) and he'll sprint off to show off but soon she'll pass him slowly and steadily, and his pet name for her shifts from 'angel' to 'tortoise' and when other people look at him strangely for calling her that she just laughs and makes a ridiculous noise she insists sounds like a tortoise, 'though he's of the opinion that it sounds more like a whale.

_9_

They part for Christmas and he comes back several pounds heavier from the huge roasts they've had, and she comes back and harries him out of the dorm every morning, early, for a run.

The first morning it happens he's fast asleep on his back, his stuff everywhere, and she bounds eagerly into the room and parts his drapes, jumping on top of him.

"Wakey wakey, Theo," she shouts, poking him merrily with her wand, and he comes abruptly awake to find her leaning over him, her woolly purple hat pulled down over her plaited hair and dancing blue eyes, and he shouts in shock and twists so suddenly she falls off him and down onto the floor.

"For Merlin's sake, Greengrass," Soleus complains from the other side of the room, "Can't you just let us _sleep_?"

Daphne beams at him and bounds across the room to tug his bedcovers off.

"No, Lestrange, I can't," she teases, and then disappears downstairs with a shouted warning to Theo that if he doesn't hurry up she'll hex him in ways he didn't know were possible.

He hurries up.

_10_

They have this routine, see, and it continues all through third year and into fourth and they're _happy _and they're _comfortable _and they're DaphneandTheo and no-one ever sees them differently. And every time Soleus teases him for not just gathering up the balls to tell her how he feels he _gives up_ right at the last second.

So maybe it's his fault she says yes to going out with Soleus. He corners his friend exactly ten minutes after she's bounced in to inform him deliriously of her date and then bounced right back out again.

"You git," Theo says. "You're supposed to be my _friend._"

"Oh, come off it, Theodore," Soleus replies, stretching indolently in the chair. "You can't expect her to not date just because you like her."

Theo punches him then, and it surprises him how satisfying it is to feel a nose break under your knuckles.

_11_

Soleus breaks up with Daphne after three weeks and, somehow, this doesn't make Theo any happier because she runs to him and she's crying and he can't be happy if she's sad like this so he goes and punches Soleus again.

"What the _fuck_, Theodore?" Soleus shrieks, clutching his face, and Theo looms over him and holds his wand to his friend's throat.

"Don't you ever hurt her again," he warns darkly, and in that moment there are shades of Death Eater in his eyes that make Soleus back up several centimetres.

"You're pathetic, Nott," Soleus sneers, blood leaking down his handsome face from the cut on his brow. "You've been in love with her since you first met her and you won't ever _tell her_."

"I don't want to ruin our friendship," Theo replies stiffly, his wand unmoving. "If she ever feels the same way about me, _then _I'll do something about it."

"She won't ever love you," Soleus informs him maliciously. "You're not good enough for someone like her."

_12_

She ambushes him later in an abandoned classroom and clambers into his lap and holds his face between her hands.

"Pansy told me she heard Soleus say you're not good enough for me," she informs him, and Theo shuts his eyes and prays she doesn't know of the rest of the conversation, "And I want you to know that you are easily worthy of _any _girl in this whole damned place and Soleus Lestrange knows that."

"Thank you," he murmurs, his eyes opening, and she smiles softly down at him and lays her head on his shoulder.

"You're my best friend, Theo," she reminds him, picking at a loose thread on his jumper. "And I don't make friends with just anybody."

_13_

Fifth year spills into Sixth and Voldemort is moving and Daphne and Theo cling to each other and hope and pray and try to pretend that they're filled with glee.

"I _hate _this," she protests fiercely to him one night when they're lying stretched out on their stomachs on his bed, her hair down and spread out over them both and a silencing charm on the hangings. "I hate acting like I love hearing that people are dead."

"I'm scared I'm starting to believe myself," he confides, and suddenly she rolls towards him and presses herself against his body and snuggles blissfully into his embrace.

"I promise to snap you out of it if you ever turn out like one of _them_," she says with a slight grin, and he wraps his arms around her and rolls onto his back, pulling her on top of him.

"And I promise the same to you," he tells her, and she laughs and tucks her head into his neck.

"Love you," she murmurs sleepily, and he holds her tightly and sighs against her hair.

"Love you too."

_Always have._

_14_

One morning near the end of the year she blushes inexplicably when he rushes up to her to ask about a potions assignment and he regards her curiously as she stutters her way through her reply.

"Okay," he says, drawing her aside and trying to ignore the stares from the other Slytherins. Since he lost Soleus he hasn't had any friends in Slytherin but for Daphne and it doesn't bother him but he knows she worries for him. "Tell me what's going on."

"Soleus says you like me," she whispers, and he scowls and drags her away to a disused classroom and locks the door behind them.

"Does he?" he replies evenly, trying to remain neutral.

"Yes," she confirms, her hair in the scruffy ponytail flashing in the sunlight pouring in from the window. "And … well … it sort of got me to thinking and I realised that I think maybe I … you know …"

He crosses the room towards her and takes her hands in his and leans down to rest his forehead against hers.

"Tortoise," he says sincerely, and she laughs and blinks up at him. "I have been in love with you since I first saw you on Platform 9¾. And while Soleus is usually a vicious little liar I must admit he is telling the truth this time around."

"Thank Merlin," she breathes, and then she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him forcefully, making him stagger back against the wall while his head whirs and he tries to get a handle on the situation.

"But …" he stammers when she parts from him, her eyes glazed and her hair thoroughly messed up. "But how can you like me? I mean … you like Sol, not me."

"I don't know when it started," she confesses, leaning against him comfortably. "But it happened and … I don't think there's any going back."

"Well then," he says, and kisses her again. "That's a relief, because I don't think I'm getting over you any time soon."

_15_

And she's a pureblood, so his father speaks with hers and they are engaged straight after they leave school. They think it's a little early but, as Theo's father points out, the purebloods need to band together and keep the families strong while they still can.

So they wait to get married until they're twenty-three and secretly they celebrate when, eleven years later, their first daughter gets placed in Gryffindor.

And Theo's father discovers that, despite all his instincts, he can't help but love his granddaughter, his darling little Chloe, even if she's a Gryffindor. And so he learns to love Gryffindor through her and it's the start of a long and beautiful relationship.

:-:


	7. Dennis Creavey and Gabrielle Delacour

**Of Photographs and Dragons**

_(Dennis Creavey/Gabrielle Delacour)_

_by _

_tat 1312 (Ravenclaw)_

Dennis is surprised to see her here; she surely doesn't look like the other dragon trainers in apprenticeship. He remembers when he first saw her fifteen years ago: he was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Colin. She was sitting with her sister, the Beaux-Bâtons champion. She was younger than him, but still she impressed him with her gracious maintaining. At the time, he was too young to understand the attraction, the allurement; she was just a really pretty girl. But now he understands it, and he feels his feet guiding him toward her. Perhaps it because she's the only person that seems friendly enough in that foreign country.

"Hi," he simply says.

"Hi," she answers smiling, vaguely looking at him. She's probably used to all those strangers who want to engage in a conversation with her.

He doesn't know what to say, he just wants to speak with her and before he can find something to add, she exclaims:

"I remember you! You took a picture of Fleur and me at Hogwarts. I don't know how I remember that, it was years ago."

She's talking about Colin.

"It was my brother actually, Colin Creevey. I'm Dennis," he informs her.

The name probably rings a bell to her. A sad expression crosses her charming features. The "Harry Potter: Seven Years of Friendship and Memories — photographs by Colin Creevey" book is quite famous in the Wizarding World.

"Oh. You did a very good work with that book. I'm sure your brother would have appreciated it," she says awkwardly. She remembers him being the Hogwarts photographer, but she hadn't made the connection between the face and the name. He can tell she's slightly embarrassed.

"I'm sure he would," he starts but he's stopped by Professor Weasley, who indicates them it's the beginning of the classes.

He gives them a presentation speech about dragon taming, but Dennis doesn't listen: he's only here to take photos for his new book. So he watches her and tries to remember her name. It's something pretty he's sure, but he can't find it. He watches her intensely and doesn't hear Charlie snapping him from his reverie:

"Mr Creevey, even if you're just here for your photograph reportage, it would be nice to listen to the security guidance."

"Yes, sorry," he replies but keep looking at her from the corner of his eye.

Soon it's the end of the classes and everyone is invited to the tamers tent to have some lunch. He can tell he's not the only one attracted to the girl. He catches her name when she introduces herself to one of the students. Gabrielle. He knew her name was pretty. He takes note that her name is pronounced Gah-bree-hell and not Gay-bree-ill.

She's eating with the only other girl of the program, an impressively muscular, Asian girl. A Rumanian bloke and a handsome Australian sit with the two girls, without asking permission. He passes by them and she waves at him to sit with there. He joins.

She seems at ease speaking with people, he's not. He speaks the minimum, only when asked.

The Rumanian guy speaks French fluently, apparently, and holds her in a conversation that lasts the rest of the meal. He stands and goes for the next introduction class.

"Dennis." He hears, and recognizes Gabrielle calling him and with her thick accent it sounds like Dun-hee. He stops and waits for her.

"Gabrielle," he says slowly trying to avoid his British accent. She laughs.

"You almost managed it, Dennis. But don't bother, I'm probably killing English pronunciation as much as Kyle is killing French. And the accent is quite charming, in fact."

They walk toward her next classes: introduction to the dragons. He's finally going to work a little.

He takes off the material and installs it while the professor is introducing them to Gilea, a Ukrainian Ironbelly female.

He studies the different students, all seem thrilled. And all have the stature you could expect for a dragon keeper: strong and enduring. All except Gabrielle. She's delicate, not fragile but delicate. He wonders why she chose that path, it's hard and dangerous. But then he sees the sparkles in her eyes and the attention she gives to the animal. The way she takes notes without leaving the eyes off Gilea. He can see passion in her eyes.

He takes some good pictures of the beast and Charlie during the afternoon; the students haven't the right to approach it yet.

At the end of the day, he returns to the inn he's staying without talking more to Gabrielle.

The next day is sunny and the light is perfect for the photos he wants to take. He knows today is going to be a good day.

When he goes to the common room of the inn, Gabrielle is already eating breakfast. She waves at him, pecks him on both cheeks. He's surprised by it at first, and he hopes the warm greeting is just for him. But then he remembers it's the usual greeting in France.

"How are you?" she casually asks.

"Good, today seems to be good for photos, and you?" he politely demands.

"Excited, today's the first contact with the animal."

"A little nervous maybe?"

"Not at all! I've been waiting it for fifteen years!" she exclaims.

"Fifteen years, it was the TriWizard Tournment, wasn't it?"

"Since I saw my sister and the other champions affront the dragons, I've been impassioned by them. I really want to work with them—" She's interrupted by Kyle:

"Girls like you aren't strong enough to fight dragons."

"I don't think the purpose of a dragon tamer is to fight dragons, but more to take care of them," Dennis answers.

"And being a girl is not a handicap," Gabrielle adds before leaving the table.

Dennis follows promptly after. He sees her outside the dragon's pen.

"You're thirteen minutes early," he says and sees that her face is red with anger.

"You know, it is because of blokes like him that I wanted to do a dangerous job," she answers ignoring is remark.

"Because I'm a girl, half-veela they expect me to be charming and sweet. They can't see past my charms, I need to prove myself each time I start something new. No one takes me seriously," she rants.

"To be honest, I wanted to ask you why you chose that path. You don't seem to fit the standards of a dragon keeper. But then, I saw you looking at the dragon and I understood you are just doing something you love. Kyle surely haven't understood it yet."

"And I don't think he'll ever understand. Thanks, Dennis." She smiles at him.

He talks to her about the picture he took yesterday and she wants to see them after the class.

Charlie arrives soon and interrupts their discussion. And they go to see the dragons.

Two weeks pass and it's the same routine. Every morning Dennis follows the student to the fence and takes photos. The afternoon, he spends it with Gabrielle and sometimes Lana, John and Robert join. But it's mostly the two of them and pictures and discussions.

Soon, the allurement he felt for her is replaced with admiration. He admires her strength and her diplomacy with people. He admires how she takes care of the animals, and he's proud when Charlie says she's the best of his students, leaving Kyle red with anger.

He laughs with her later in the afternoon remembering the scenery. She laughs hard, unladylike and he takes a picture of her because she's just beautiful, and not only because her looks.

She stops laughing when she sees the flash and asks him:

"Why was that picture for? Not for your Giant Animals Reportage, I hope."

"Yes, between the Giant Squid and the drangons," he jokes. And she laughs even more.

"You're beautiful when you laugh," he says.

"Only when I laugh?" she teases him.

"Yes." He enters in her teasing game. "Only when you laugh."

"I'll laugh more often then," she says seriously. Because of her sentence he grabs all his Gryffindor courage and he kisses her.

She wraps her arms around him, and he knows he is falling in love.

* * *

_A special thanks to my betareader Never-Ending nights with you._


	8. Charlie Weasley and Dragons

**The First Time**

_(Charlie Weasley/dragons)_

_by_

_Rita Arabella Black (Gryffindor)_

Charlie Weasley's fate was about to be sealed. He was about to do something he knew if his mother ever found out about, he would be a dead wizard. That is to say if what he was planning to do didn't kill him first.

During the summer of his last year at Hogwarts, he was, as he liked to put it, weighing his options. He had an appointment with the coach of the National Quidditch team and he stood an excellent shot at making the team. He was going to become a famous Quidditch player for England. No doubt about it. Six scouts showed up at his last house Quidditch match where he led his Gryffindor Lions to a shellacking of the highly touted Slytherin team. No one had expected Gryffindor to win the House Cup again; too many injuries, but Charlie Weasley won the day. Of course he was going to play for England. How could he not?

Right before the interview, his friend Hagrid invited him to a black arts carnival. There was supposed to be every type of mythical and magical creature known in the dark world on exhibition or for sale. Hagrid knew that Charlie shared his fascination to all creatures magical so he was the first one he thought about when he won two tickets to the carnival. Charlie readily accepted and didn't even question when Hagrid told him it might not be a good idea to tell his family, his mother especially, where he was going. These carnivals were very dangerous, but it certainly wasn't something they couldn't handle. Besides, he told him, there will be Sirens, and if it was anything thing like last year, dragons.

It wasn't the first time Charlie lied to his mother; most of the time though, it was because he was meeting some girl that he had no intention of introducing to his family. Besides, they would not approve of him intentionally going to an event where dark magic was practiced or where, God forbid, death eaters might congregate.

He wanted to be this close to a real dragon. He'd seen plenty pictures of them, and stuffed dead ones, but never a live one. He was going, no matter what. He decided he would much rather apologize later than ask permission.

He sneaked out of the house and met Hagrid in Knockturn Alley. He had no idea where the carnival was being held, but they apparated to a boggy area. The day was overcast and was unseasonable hot. They had to walk a couple of miles to the site and when they finally arrived, Hagrid was dripping with sweat.

The carnival consisted of booths and tents that had exhibitions. Every type of dark potion was available for sale, along with books on unforgiveable curses and spells and very old and dark magic. There were six booths that offered a love potion promising slavish devotion or death to the intended target. There were more booths that sold "enhancements". Charlie stopped at one of the booths to get a look at the potion, but Hagrid pushed him away, "They don't work," he mumbled. There were dragon eggs and three headed dogs for sale, and as much as Hagrid was dying for a dragon, the wizard offering them couldn't talk him into buying.

Charlie and Hagrid went to every booth and exhibit. They ate and drank typical carnie fare, typical but with a definite dark magic taste. Hagrid didn't seem to have any trouble with the stout and green beverages. Charlie sniffed one of the vile looked drinks and shook his head. No thanks, he said, he had no desire to wake up in some bog robbed and violated. The only thing he ate was dragon steaks on a stick; something he found delicious. Hagrid filled up on funnel cake.

Beautiful and near-naked Sirens danced their dance of seduction, calling to them to join them onstage. More than one young wizard had to be pulled away or face a rather grisly death at the hands of the Sirens. Charlie stared at the Sirens with slack jaw and glazed eyes, moving toward the stage. Hagrid laughed heartily as he pulled him to safety. He hurried him outside the tent as Charlie fought him tooth and nail to go back into the tent.

"Ye'll thank me later, Charlie," Hagrid promised, as he dragged him away. "Let's go see what we came here for."

Charlie shook his head to clear out the visions the Sirens had put in his head and stumbled along to the last tent at the end of the row. As they walked closer, frightened wizards ran screaming from the tent.

"Ah, good," said Hagrid, "the show's over. Next one should be startin' soon. Hurry, let's get a good seat."

Charlie didn't need any more coaxing. He followed Hagrid, who made it real simple to walk through a crowd, to the front row. They sat on rickety chairs that Hagrid had to hex to make it large enough for his huge frame. Charlie was too excited to sit down until a rather sinister-looking wizard told him to sit down or he'd lay it down. Since the wizard was almost as wide as Hagrid, he decided not to argue with the man. He sat down quickly.

Before the show started, a very slight man walked on stage. His hair was black and slicked back. His robe were shiny and well worn and there were patches in the sleeves. He called for his assistant to join him on stage and the audience gasped as a very beautiful, exotic woman joined him. She was scantily dressed and she bore a huge burn mark on her face. The man turned her around and showed the enormous tattoo of a Japanese dragon across her back. She was, he told them, Misaka, half human, half dragon. She was captured on Mount Fuji when she was ten years old. He held up her arms and pointed out where her wings had attached under her arms. The wings dropped off after her capture.

Hagrid harrumphed and rolled his eyes. "If she's half dragon, I'm half hippogriff," he said.

Charlie chuckled and shushed his friend. He watched the half dragon dance seductively, wondering if he was going to see any _real _dragons. Finally, another wizard peeked out from behind the curtain on stage. He was a very large wizard, dressed in dragon skin from head to toe. And he was the coolest person Charlie had ever seen. The man was scarred and burned; he was missing two fingers and he told the audience a Hungarian horntail had eaten part of his left foot.

The man had the crowd mesmerized with his adventures as a dragon keeper. Dragons are intelligent mystical creatures that must be respected, he told them.

"Now," he said, clapping his hands together, "who wants to wrangle a dragon?"

Charlie's hand immediately flew up. His was the only hand in the air. Obviously, no one was expected to be crazy enough to actually volunteer. Even Hagrid wasn't brave enough to get into a ring with a dangerous creature. He shook his head and tried to pull Charlie back, but he was determined.

The crowd cheered wildly when Charlie jumped on the stage. He waved cheerily and shook the keeper's hand enthusiastically.

The man looked at him curiously. "You sure you want to do this? You don't get a refund if Little Debbie rips you to little pieces."

Charlie nodded. "No problem," he said just as enthusiastically. "I can do this. Let me at him."

The wizard shrugged. "It's your funeral, mate," he said. "You gotta sign a release so your family can't sue. Just in case."

"Let's do it."

A legal looking document and quill suddenly appeared in the wizard's hands and he show Charlie where to sign. Still grinning, Charlie signed the document and it immediately disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and a loud "pop".

"So, what's your name, kid?"

"Charlie," he said politely.

"So, Charlie, you had a lot of experience with dragons, have you?"

He shook his head. "Not really, but I'm a fast learner. And I'm good with magical creatures."

"Well, Charlie. Here's your chance. You are going to wrangle Little Debbie. Do you know what that means?"

Charlie shook his head.

The wizard rolled his eyes. "It's been nice knowing you, kid," he said.

"No, really, I can do this. Just tell me what I have to do."

The wizard shrugged. "Okay. Pay attention. You are going to get into the pen with this nesting dragon and secure her with these ropes and put her into the traveling box. Think you can handle that?"

Suddenly the curtains swung open and inside a secured pen was a real, live dragon. It was a Common Welch Green. It was the most beautiful creature Charlie had ever seen. The poor creature was ancient and its thin jets of fire only lasted a few seconds before the flame went out on its own. Still the creature was an imposing site and she was still dangerous. Charlie took a hard breath and opened the pen and walked inside. The wizard threw the ropes over the fence and he put them over his head. He walked toward the dragon, wand in hand. The dragon started to charge him, but he side stepped and threw a paralyzing hex at him. The hex hit the dragon, but she shook it off. He kept throwing curses until the dragon finally looked tired. Taking advantage, he stormed the dragon and threw the ropes around his neck. He pulled the rope sharply and the dragon tried to fight it off. With a combination of hexes and maneuvers that kept the stunned audience in their seats, he managed to wrangle the dragon into the transportation box. Sweating and grunting, Charlie quickly shut the door, sealing the dragon inside the box.

The crowd was on their collective feet, cheering at Charlie's finesse and bravery. Hagrid cheered louder than anyone else.

"I did it!" he shouted thrusting his fist into the air.

The wizard was clapping, too. "Good job, kid. If you ever consider a job as a dragon keeper, I'll put in a good word for you." He handed Charlie a business card. "Romania's always looking for interns."

"Wow, that would be great!" he said. "Thank you. Your dragon's beautiful," he said misty eyed. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well," the wizard said, slapping his on the back. "You're a natural."

Charlie didn't remember leaving the stage or the carnival, he was so excited. Wrangling that dragon was the biggest thrill he'd ever had, and he wanted more.

"You know, Hagrid," he said as they made their way back to Knockturn Alley, "I know what I what I'm going to do with my life. I'm going to be a dragon keeper."

"Charlie, what about Quidditch?"

"Are you kidding me? I could never just play Quidditch. I have to wrangle dragons. It's what I was meant to do."

The next day, Charlie canceled his appointment with the National Quidditch team, giving no explanation to his family. He wrote letters to Dmitri Dragomir, director of the Romanian Dragon Preserve, begging for a spot as an intern. He didn't get an answer from Romania until the end of his seventh year at Hogwarts where, at graduation, Headmaster Dumbledore announced to stunned family and friends that Charlie Weasley had been chosen as the first British intern in over twenty years. Charlie was going to Romania to study dragons!


	9. Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang

**Easy to Read**

_(Cedric Diggory/Cho Chang)_

_by_

_Love From A Muggle (Hufflepuff)_

The pressure of the First task was upon him. He had to figure out spells to get around the dragon. Thanks to Harry Potter, Cedric knew what was ahead of him. Harry felt it was right to tell Cedric what was in the next task. Cedric neither cared nor wanted to know how Harry knew the task was Dragons. His main focus was on how to get around the dragon.

Cedric knew he was going crazy. He had to leave the Hufflepuff common room. Had to leave the watching eyes of his fellow students. He was tired of the people coming up to him and trying to give him advice. He just wanted to be left alone. Cedric Diggory was about to snap at anyone who bothered him. He loved how he was getting attention, but he felt that none of them really knew him.

The Library. He knew people would leave him alone if he went to the library. He ran a finger through his thick brown hair and picked up his bag. Not saying a word to anyone he left the Common Room. He quietly made his way to the library. Once there, Cedric found a small corner and sat down. He opened one of his books and began reading. He breathed in. Taking in the quietness of the library was something he enjoyed. He was finally being left alone.

"Cedric?" A small voice spoke interrupting Cedric's thoughts. Or he thought he had been alone. The boiling point had been reached. Cedric was about to snap at the owner of the voice, when he looked up. There she was. Staring down at him with a grin on her pale face. How could he snap at something so pure, so beautiful as she?

"Cho Chang. Ravenclaw Seeker. What could you possibly want with me? Your fellow Hufflepuff Seeker?" He placed his book on his lap, keeping a finger in its place to not lose his spot. He sighed. His thoughts were interrupted, but somehow it was a welcomed distraction.

"I just wanted to say good luck with the second task. I was listening to Harry Potter and Hermione Granger talk just now on how dangerous it would be." She tilted her head in their direction. He noted that it was just the two of them in the library. He looked at them for a moment and wondered if Harry had found anything out about getting past the dragon. This was going to take some time. He had no one to help him.

"Why would you care about me? We're rivals. Nothing more, nothing less." He inquired. He hardly spoke to Cho before now. He just saw her in classes. Cedric was more of a loner and liked it that way.

"Because I want you to win the tournament instead of Harry. He has everything going for him. You're actually the Hogwarts Champion, and some how you seem like you don't want the fame. I can tell by looking at you. Your expressions. You seem sad, and worried for some reason." Cho sat down next to Cedric despite him not wanting her to.

She was being honest with him and all he could think about was wanting to be left alone, but this strange creature, wanted to be with him. Wanted to talk to him. This is something he would have to get use to. He could tell she was not going to give up. Cedric placed a bookmark in where his finger was keeping his page. He looked back up at her. She was quiet for once, gathering her thoughts. He knew girls talked a lot, but Cho was one of the quiet ones.

"Am I that easy to read? Here I thought I was hiding my emotions from the rest," he confessed asking her quietly.

"Oh, you're easy to me. Anyone else I can't read their expressions, but to you, you're an open book. I've noticed your expressions at your table in the Great Hall when you seem happy. There is a hidden fear there. As if you think something will go wrong," she talked to him in a low whisper so they wouldn't get thrown out. A strand of raven hair fell from her tight bun. He wondered for a split second what she looked like with her hair down. He shook his head slightly regaining his focus on what she was talking about. She gently put her strand back in its place not caring about how bad it looked.

"Let's get out of here," he said to her.

"Okay." She stood up and offered her hand. He grasped his fingers around hers and pushed himself up. A spark flew between them as their fingers intertwined with one another. Something about her made him quiver. He had never felt this way before towards anyone. He stared into her eyes, and then broke apart from her hand as he stood there in front of her. The awkward silence made them both blush ,and look away for a moment.

"It's still a Hogsmead Saturday. We could go there if you'd like." Cedric looked at his watch and saw it was noon. He wanted to escape the castle. No, the people in it. He no longer wanted to be alone. He wanted to be with Cho. Something about her intrigued him. They gathered their bags and quietly walked towards the door. Cedric remembered something his father always said. A way to a woman's heart was to let her know she's worth something. Show her respect. Cedric opened the door and let Cho go first.

He stood there for a moment in the threshold of the library. One side it was quiet, the other side it was so loud Cedric wanted to leave it. Cho stopped for a moment and turned back to him. She outstretched her hand again. He accepted her hand as he continued walking. It didn't hit him that he was still holding her hand till he walked outside of the castle. They walked in silence taking in the moment. Cedric breathed in and felt the warm day shine on his skin. He loved this time of year.

"Are you scared?" Her quiet question brought him out of his thoughts.

"About what?"

"The tasks ahead. I've heard there will be a ball as well. I've also heard that people have died in this tournament," she said it so quietly as if she didn't want him to hear the last part. Cedric thought for a moment. The last line she spoke was new to him. He had heard Dumbledore mention something like that, but brushed it off.

"I've heard people have died too, but I know I wont. I just have to figure out how to do the right thing in the tasks. Everyone else has someone to help them with the tasks, but I have no one." Cedric looked at her for a second, and then gripped her hand gently.

"I'll help. I'm in Ravenclaw after all and I should be able to figure out how to help." She held tightly onto his hand. "I don't want you to die," she confessed. He stopped walking right as they got to the gates of Hogwarts. He had been one for thinking before doing, but something about what he wanted to do right now made him stop dead in his tracks. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly before in his life. Cedric hadn't had that much experience with women, and knew this would be his first kiss if he did go through with it. She had said she didn't want him to die.

"Why?" He moved towards a spot underneath a tree next to the gates of Hogwarts. Going to Hogsmead meant nothing to him now. The fear of death was taking over him. She followed him still holding his hand tighter now he realized.

"Because, I like you. I know it's crazy, but I've liked you from the first moment I saw you. I knew you'd enter the Tournament and I knew if I wanted to get to know you I'd have to make the first move. You hardly noticed me except during Quidditch last year." The two sat in silence for a moment as Cedric breathed in the winter air. She shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her to keep warm. He opened his bag as he set it down on the ground. He then handed her his jacket. Cedric always kept a jacket on hand in case he got cold. She accepted his jacket.

"I've noticed you looking at me, but never thought about you in that way till now," he spoke as he helped her put on his jacket.

They sat in silence under the tree for a while. Sometimes one doesn't need to exchange words to be in one's company. Cedric loved the fall. One thing he kept thinking about was her telling him she didn't want him to die. That thought scared him. He hadn't thought of dying in the Tournament before. He brushed the thought of death out of his mind and snuck a look over at her. He thought he saw her shed a tear. She shivered again. Cedric looked up at the sky. Grey clouds took over the once clear blue sky. A reddish brown leaf fell to the ground. Cedric caught it in his hands. As he turned the leaf over he felt a rain drop.

"Want to go back to the castle? I know I could use some supper." She smiled a weak smile at him. He stood up and offered his hand. She accepted as she pushed herself up. She let go of his hand as rain started to fall from the ground. They walked in silence to the castle. Thunder boomed, and lightening crashed illuminating the sky. He could have sworn he saw her jump when she saw lightening.

"Don't like storms?" He questioned. She shook her head as he took her hand. He personally loved thunderstorms, but knew she hated them. He felt her hand loosen.

"Thunderstorms scare me," she admitted.

"Well, you have me now to protect you." he smiled and brought her close to him. They reached the castle with their clothes soaked.

"Shall we go change before dinner?" She suggested. He chuckled for he knew that she like him hated the feeling of wet clothes. He gave her a hug and started his way to the common room. He could have sworn when he looked back that he saw one of her friends coming up to her giggling over Cedric giving her a hug. Cedric didn't know what was going on with him and Cho, but he had hoped it was a thing that he could get use to.


	10. Severus Snape and Lily Evans II

**Those Eyes**

_(Severus Snape/Lily Evans)_

_by _

_goldeneyedgirl247 (Gryffindor)_

Ever since the moment I first caught a glimpse of Lily Evans playing with her sister Petunia in their backyard, I knew. I knew that she was the most beautiful girl in the world. I would sit at that fence separating my backyard from hers, separating my life from hers, and watch as she smiled, laughed, and played, day after day. I would marvel over the way in which the light caught the strands of red in her mane of fiery hair. I would wonder what it would be like to speak with her, for once. To hear her twinkling voice directed towards me. To watch her emerald green eyes light up at something I said.

But, she was just a muggle. A lowly muggle. A creature I had been taught wizards were to treat as lower than rats. Of course, I had always thought of this as slightly hypocritical as my own father was a muggle. It seemed as though my mother had forgotten this after his passing. Eileen never failed to remind me that "I was half Price, after all." She taught me good pureblood rituals and values. Such values dissuaded me from ever speaking to the beautiful redheaded girl from across the fence.

Then, one day everything changed. I made an amazing discovery. I discovered that Lily was magical, like me. Lily Evans was a witch. I take pride in having witnessed what appeared to be her very first magical encounter.

Lily and Petunia had been climbing the tree in their backyard when Petunia, being the harebrained girl I had observed her to be, decided to climb higher than had ever gone before, up to where the branches were less stable, and where the sunlight poured through. Lily warned her against it, but Petunia would not be swayed. As her sister neared the top of the tree, Lily trembled with fear on her much lower branch, crying out to the brunette who had refused to listen. When Petunia reached the top of the tree, a loud crack split the air, and she instantly began to fall. She fell down, down through the blanket of leaves and towards the ground. Lily cried out, and almost instantly, her sister froze midair, inches from the earth.

Lily's first act of magic had been to save another, as was her last.

Now was my chance. I could finally talk to the girl I had loved from the moment I saw her.

But I didn't. What exactly was I supposed to say? "Hi I'm Sev, did you know you're a witch?" I didn't think so. So I waited and I watched. I watched as her magic became more developed, I watched as her parents became more intrigued, and I watched as Petunia became more and more jealous. It pained me, but I didn't approach the girl.

Eventually however, I couldn't resist.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Lily and Petunia had decided to play in the park. Lily was playing on the swing set, flying higher and higher, while Petunia sat watching her sister and picking weeds from the grass.

At once, at the height of its arc, Lily let go of the swing. To any other spectator, jumping off a swing mid air would seem foolhardy, but I was no ordinary spectator. I did not flinch as I watched her soar through the air and land gracefully on the grass. I knew she would be all right; she was a witch, after all.

Petunia, however, knew no such thing, and began to scream as her sister flew, crying, "Mummy told you not to!" as Lily landed, gracefully as ever.

The red head took no notice of her overly paranoid sister who went on to nag her further. Giggling, Lily showed Petunia that she had discovered how to open and close the petals of a flower.

"Stop it!" shrieked Petunia, as Lily insisted that it wasn't hurting anyone.

It was then that Petunia's curiosity took over. "It's not right," said Petunia. "How do you do it?" she added. I could hear the longing in her voice.

I could no longer contain myself.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" I almost whispered, coming out of my hiding spot among the bushes

My sudden appearance caused Petunia to shriek and fall backwards. Even Lily seemed startled, although she remained standing in the same position. I regretted my sudden appearance instantly. I wished I could fade away into the bush, to be a spectator instead of a participant again.

"What's obvious?" Lily asked.

Knowing I would now have to confess what I had known for so long I lowered my voice, "I know what you are."

"What do you mean?"

"You're… you're a witch," I whispered.

Her reaction was most definitely not what I had expected, as she jumped back, looking affronted.

"_That's_ not a very nice thing to say to somebody!" she said, turning towards her sister.

"No!" I practically yelled, realizing my mistake. Maybe muggles took offense to being called witches, as a witch would take offense to being called a muggle?

"You _are," _I said to Lily. "You _are _a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's a witch, and I'm a wizard."

Petunia just laughed at me.

"Wizard!" She shrieked, "I know who you are. You're that Snape boy! They live down at Spinner's End by the river. Why have you been spying on us?"

I rolled my eyes at her utter stupidity. "I haven't been spying. Why would I spy on _you, _anyway? You're a muggle." I added with perhaps too much venom.

Unfortunately, Petunia stuck her nose in the air and led her sister away. I stood rooted to the spot with bitter disappointment and an air of failure at having lost the opportunity I had been waiting for so long to arise.

At least I had spoken to the green-eyed beauty at long last.

xxx

After that initial encounter, I was devastated. I stopped watching Lily altogether, and gave up hope of us ever being friends until a week or so later, when I opened my front door to find Lily Evans twirling a strand of her long and beautiful red hair around her finger.

I did not attempt to control my shock. Lily Evans, the girl with whom I had been infatuated for months appeared in front of my house. Naturally, given the fact that my mother was home, I was unable to invite her inside. In consolation, I suggested we walk to the park and much to my surprise, she obliged.

Once we arrived at the same park in which we had officially met for the first time, Lily began to speak, "I've been thinking about what you had said last week."

I nodded.

"Were you joking?"

I raised my eyebrow, confused. "About what?

"About… about me being a witch?" Lily asked, eyes wide as if she longed to believe, but dared not.

"No," I responded.

"No I'm not a witch or no you weren't joking?" she implored, searching for a clear answer.

"No, I was not joking," I chuckled, and looking straight into her beautiful green eyes I said, "You, Lily Evans, are most definitely a witch."

"Wow," Lily answered, her eyes wide.

I scrunched up my face in concentration and practically begged my magic to respond. After a few seconds, a white lily appeared in my hand.

"For you," I said, holding it out to her.

"A lily?" she asked shocked, taking my gift apprehensively.

"A lily for a Lily," I responded, and she giggled excitedly. It was beautiful.

After that day, the day on which Lily had finally learned she was a witch, we became inseparable. And, she became obsessed with learning about the wizarding world. I showed her wizarding pictures, told her stories about the founders of Hogwarts, bought her chocolate frogs and together we read some of the spell books my mother kept around the house. We spent hours trying to produce the various charms and curses with sticks of wood Lily had found in her backyard.

We were best friends and she told me everything. The only thing I never mentioned to Lily was the blood hierarchy. She had no knowledge that once she began school at Hogwarts or when she was finally exposed to the wizarding world that she might be discriminated against.

Eventually, her Hogwarts letter came. We celebrated with vanilla ice cream sundaes and Bertie Bott Every Flavoured Beans; the best of both worlds.

We grew so close, so inseparable, that a week before school began we made a pact. We promised to be best friends forever, and to be there for one another at every turn.

But, when we went to Hogwarts, I was in for a shock. Lily Evans, my best friend, was sorted into Gryffindor and I, into Slytherin. At first we stayed close, inseparable by day and only forced apart by night. However, we both cam to realize that another obstacle stood in our way as well. Because she was in Gryffindor, we were also separated by belief.

Gryffindors were known for courage, while Slytherins for cunningness. Gryffindors were mostly light and Slytherins were Dark. That was just how it worked. The thought of two such people even getting along, let alone being best friends, was unheard of.

But we did, and we were.

That is not to say that it was not hard, being best friends with a Gryffindor. I was teased and taunted by many of my peers. It didn't matter you me then, I still loved her.

Unfortunately, as they say, all good things must come to an end, and indeed this; the most amazing thing that had ever occurred in my life, came crashing down. It fell slowly at first, and then faster than the wings of a hummingbird against the azure sky.

School was a tough place for me. I was never what one would call a normal child, let alone a normal Slytherin, given my friendship with Lily. Other than her, my friends were few and far between, especially in that first year. Lily seemed to have the opposite problem. Her effortless grace was hypnotizing, and students naturally flocked towards her, but she always had time for me. For Sev, her best friend forever.

How I wish I were still a first year. Back then, Lily and I cared not of the pressure to assimilate, to become just another Slytherin or Gryffindor. It's funny, seeing as my 11-year-old self would not have been able to fight back if someone had attached or challenged me, whereas it was my 15-year-old self and onwards, then powerful and magically knowledgeable, who backed away before the opportunity arose. As my magic grew stronger, my strength and determination seemingly grew weaker. Perhaps I had merely been naïve then. Perhaps that was not a bad thing.

Second year passed in nearly the same fashion, but it was then that I found my release, my true calling; potions. Yes, I had had experience making potions prior to my second year, but it was then that my talent flourished. I was happy to have finally found a hobby, but it seemed to further alienate me from the other students. Now, I was not only the Gryffindor-loving Slytherin, but the potions-obsessed Gryffindor-loving Slytherin.

Honestly, I didn't care all that much. I was proud of who I was. I even took to calling myself the "Half-Blood Prince," a title only Lily knew of.

Lily and I remained close during that year, meeting daily under the shade of our favourite tree by the lake. How I loved our time spent together. We would sit for hours after class, watching the clouds go by. Watching the children run past. Discussing the stupidity of James Potter & Co. Talking about a past exam or assignment. Watching the flowers grow. Some would have found it boring, but I savored every moment. Every second spent with Lily Evans was a jewel.

Third year came much too quickly, and both Lily and I sensed a change. We were busier now, with more classes and less free time. We could no longer lose track of the hour by the lake. Our moments together became carefully calculated, planned out to the last millisecond, and more valuable than ever.

Fourth year was when my dreams began to come crashing down. Lily and I still spent time together, but that year I found myself spending more and more time alone. Lily found herself caught up in a never-ending throng of people. I found myself struggling to keep up with her. Lily found herself struggling to slow down. But above all, the discovery that made all the difference was neither of ours. It was that of James Potter. James found Lily.

By found, I mean fell in love with.

James Potter was nothing short of a bully. He and his "posse" enjoyed taunting and teasing me mercilessly to no end. He was cocky and arrogant and everything I hated most. Unfortunately, everything I loved most, he loved as well. We were both in love with Lily Evans. We still are.

Fifth year was the year my world shattered. It was all due to a stupid mistake, a careless, heartless, error. I had been weak. It was after our Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL, and I hadn't spoken to Lily in weeks. I told myself that she had been too busy, but I knew that was not the truth. Sure, OWLS were important but there had always been time before. She had always made allowances.

As I walked out of the Great Hall upon having finished the written portion of the OWL, I made for the Hogwarts grounds to sit by Lily and my favourite tree with knowingly futile hope that Lily would join me as she used to years ago every day after we finished an exam or test.

I had barely begun to cross the lawn when I heard the whining voice of a person I had long since grown to hate call out to me.

"All right, Snivellus?" James Potter taunted.

Snivellus: a _brilliant_ creation from the mind of James Potter. I hated that name. It made me cringe. However, I would not let myself appear bothered. Emotions were a sign of weakness. My mother had taught me that.

Having expected my usual, twice-daily attack, I reached for my wand. I spun around fast, poised to attack, but James was faster.

"_Expelliarmus!" _He cried. And I was wand-less. Damn.

"_Impedimenta!" _Sirius barked, and I was thrown to the ground.

They teased and taunted me as students gathered around to watch. Profanities and hexes streamed from my mouth; all worthless, as my wand lay useless ten feet away from where I had been bound. In an obnoxious attempt to be clever, James decided to scourgify my mouth.

And as I lay, my mouth foaming with pink soap bubbles, on the ground choking and nearly to death, Lily approached. All I could see was red.

"Leave him ALONE!" Lily cried, her startlingly green almond shaped eyes wild.

James was obviously taken aback. "All right, Evans?" he asked in a voice I am sure he meant to sound mature.

"Leave him alone," Lily repeated, looking at James with disgust. "What's he done to you?"

In his stupidity, James decided to answer the obviously rhetorical question. "Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…"

The surrounding students laughed.

"You think you're funny," Lily said coldly. "But you're nothing but an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him _alone_!"

"I will if you go out with me Evans!" came James' oh-so-clever response. "Go on… go out with me and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

By this point I felt the jinx wearing off. As my limbs came unbound I began to crawl toward my wand, soap bubbles still foaming from my mouth.

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid!" Lily announced.

"Bad luck Prongs," Sirius laughed, and then turning back to me cried, "OI!"

But it was too late. I had already completed my spell. A bloody gash appeared on the side of Potter's face. The blood dripped down, covering his robes in think red liquid.

Potter turned and sent me flying into the air, upside-down. The crowd cheered and laughed.

"Let him down," Lily commanded, but I could hear a hint of a smile in her voice.

"Certainly." James replied, jerking his wand upwards and leaving me in a head on the ground.

Just as I disentangled myself Black yelled "_Petrificus Totalus!"_

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Lily yelled, pulling her own wand out.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," said Potter earnestly.

"Take the curse off him then!"

James sighed and muttered the counter curse.

I should have been grateful. She did rescue me, but in that moment all I knew was that I was being made a fool of by the Marauders again, and that Lily had defend me as if I were a child. They say that pride is not a quality we Slytherin students possess. It is the quality of a Gryffindor. However, in that moment my pride hurt, as it would have had someone stuck a dagger through my heart. I hated feeling like such a Gryffindor. The added pain of my shame made everything so much worse.

"There you go," Potter said to me, mockingly as I got to me feet, "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus-"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Lily blinked. My eyes closed. Time stood still. I knew I had done something unforgivable.

After that fateful day, one I that will forever be my worst memory, I knew that she was gone. We would never be friends again. I tried to apologize, to make things right, but she refused to speak to me.

I saw Lily everyday in class and in the halls, but mostly in my mind; in the memories that we shared. The best memories I had.

Slowly, school began to proceed as expected for a boy with no friends. I threw myself into my studies, practicing spells and charms from books in the library's restricted section night and day. I even made up some of my own.

My sixth year was a confusing one for me. I did not know who I was or what I was meant to be. Also, my mother passed away. I cannot think of one happy memory from that dark time. Nothing went right. All I could see was black. I do not think I smiled once.

In my seventh year, things got even worse. I made another dire mistake. I accidentally left my potions book in the potions classroom one day after school and a Slytherin classmate of mine happened upon it.

We Slytherin are silent and devious. Like snakes, we strike at the most opportune moment. This classmate of mine was a snake in the darkest sense.

The snake offered me my book back with an interesting preposition. His leader had taken quite an interest in the spells I had scribbled in the book's margins. The older boy wanted me to pledge allegiance to his Lord's side. To He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Around the same time, Lily started seeing Potter. It killed me to see them together and I could not understand what she saw in him. Each day when I saw them together under what used to me Lily and my tree, I wanted to curse and mourn for what might have been.

I am not attempting in any way to justify my decision, but what was I to do? Either I would remain lost and hurt or I would join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He offered security. As a Slytherin, I weighed my choices. I knew that I had promise in the Dark Arts. I had received straight Os through my Hogwarts career, and I had a knack for adapting harmless spell to fit darker purposes. With those thoughts in mind, I agreed to meet with the Dark Lord.

Our meeting was brief and confirmed all of that which I had heard. The Lord was dark and vicious and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Most of all, he was powerful. Gryffindors value courage, Ravenclaws value knowledge and Hufflepuffs value loyalty. I am a Slytherin and I value power. Light or dark, we are drawn to it. We feed off of it. In the presence of the Dark Lord, I could taste his power on the tip of my tongue. His magic was stronger than any I had ever been in the presence of. It radiated around his being like a strong, sharp, and horrific aura that I longed to be near to. When I returned for the meeting I was more confused than ever.

I wanted to talk to Lily, to have her convince me not to turn to him, to tell me that I could make it without his help. But she wasn't there. She hadn't been for a long time. Still I tried. I called out to her one day after potions. She looked at me and I knew what she was seeing; a crippled figure, too broken to be a man, but too tainted by the darkness of the world's cruelty to be a child. Potter grabbed her hand protectively and pulled her out of the room.

I was devastated. It had taken so much for me to work up the courage to ask for help and she had not even attempted to break free of Potter's grip to help me. It was my final plea to the light, asking them to let me in. Her rejection was as if she had built an iron gate with a silver padlock. There was no point in hanging on the gate's bars; I knew the key had long since been buried. I would make a good dark wizard, perhaps a great one.

That night, I took the mark.

Time seemed to move more quickly then. I soon graduated from Hogwarts with top marks, and busied myself by day by becoming a potions master at a research facility in London. By night, I fulfilled my Lord's tasks.

For the Dark Lord, I brewed potions and thought up dark curses I dared not test. My one condition was never to have to participate in raids or battle. I preferred to stay behind the scenes. It was safer that way, and I was a Slytherin not a Gryffindor.

As I drifted deeper into the darkness of this new world, I thought of Lily each day. Of her hair, her eyes, her kindness, her smell. I tried to isolate myself from the news of the wizarding world. I cared not for their petty worries. I needed no more pain in my life. But then again, who had ever cared for my needs.

A year passed before I was disturbed from this lifestyle. That day, coworkers of mine had begun to discuss the upcoming nuptials of Lily Evans and James Potter. I claimed to have fallen ill, and wandered home.

That night, I found myself in a bar with a pint of fire whiskey and elf-made wine. I drank alone and cried, cursing my bad luck and life in general.

Months passed. I was walking home from work when I saw her for the first time since our graduation. She emerged alone from a store in Diagon Alley. The blanket of darkness mixed with my sadness gave me the courage to approach her. I had nothing left to lose, or so I thought.

I walked slowly and purposefully over towards her. Her eyes widened when she realized who I was. She seemed afraid of me. It was terrible.

"Lily," I whispered. My voice was almost lost on the wind.

Her figure moved closer and into the light of a passing store window. "Severus."

We had not spoken is so long. My voice was strained.

"Why?" I asked, my lips trembling.

The question was not clear, but we both understood its meaning.

"Because I love him," she told me quietly, a tear falling from the perfect green eyes that had plagued my dreams since I was a boy.

"I love you too."

She shook her head, "I love you as well, Severus."

She did not understand. I loved her. Not like a friend, not like a brother; like a lover.

"No Lily," I told her, forcing her green eyes to meet my dark irises, "I love you. I always have."

"Sev…" She whispered. My name dropped from her lips with more grace than I had ever witnessed.

I could feel my own eyes swell with tears. I blinked them back. I could not remember the last time I cried.

"And you choose him," my voice sounded bitter, and the taste in my mouth was metallic.

"How long, Sev?"

"A long time now," I replied, bowing my head.

"Severus," Lily answered, her voice thick, "I love James."

I kept my eyes trained on the ground, still trying to best my tears. I knew I had no chance at all.

"If I would have said something earlier... Would it have made a difference?" I had to ask.

Her tears were falling fast now. "No. I don't think so."

That pained me more than anything I had felt before. I had never even had a chance. I had always loved her in a way she never had or would. I turned about to leave.

"Severus," Lily called out to me, "I really am sorry. I wouldn't have let us get so close. I shouldn't have made you fall in love with me." I saw the guilt on her face. It seemed out of place, and I realized I had not seen her wear that expression before. She was too good to do anything worth feeling guilty for.

"You give yourself too much credit Lily," I laughed, bitterly. It was not a pleasant sound. "You did nothing. I loved you before I knew your name. Since the first time I saw you."

"On the swings?" I saw pity in her eyes. It made my stomach churn.

"No, before that," I felt a tear drop. "You were in your garden. Petunia was chasing you in a game of tag and you were laughing. The first time I heard your laugh, I fell in love."

I had never felt so vulnerable, so naked. Not even in front of the Dark Lord would could read any thought in my mind. Only she could have done this to me. Reduced me to this. I turned to leave again. I did not want her to see me like this. After all the pain she had put me through, I still loved her more than anything.

"Sev… It doesn't have to be like this!" she cried, red cheeks stained with tears and anger.

"It does," I whispered. "I love you and you don't love me, so now I am going to leave you to your perfect life with your perfect husband to be. You can forget me." I could not keep the hurt form entering my voice. I winced, realizing I sounded like a spoiled child. A spoiled Gryffindor child.

"I will never forget you, Severus," Lily whispered.

I hoped this was true, because I knew that she would forever remain the most treasured part of my sorrow filled-life.

Then, Lily did something I would have never expected in a million years. She stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to mine.

The kiss did not last long enough, but the moment was one I knew I would forever use to conjure my patronus. A lifetime of waiting, a lifetime of hurt and anger… I put everything into that kiss.

Then my love pulled away. I saw her green eyes shining with tears. The kiss had not been a confession of love. It meant goodbye. I had not deluded myself into thinking otherwise, but still, my need and longing seemed only further intensified. Once you have a taste of heaven, you just can't go back to hell.

"Goodbye, Severus." Lily whispered, speaking the words I knew had to come. I knew we would never meet again, save for in my dreams.

I turned and left. I truly had nothing to live for. Hell was all I had now, and the inferno burnt my flesh. Then, when the fire left my veins, I felt the cold. A cool sensation, like ice, took over me. It was hard like stone, and smooth. No one could break it, or scratch the surface. I hid the fire under the ice and hoped it would never melt the exterior. I wore the ice as a mask. I felt nothing anymore.

Just as I had the first time she broke my heart, I threw myself into my work. I found myself ascending the ranks of the Death Eaters and soon answered to Voldemort himself. I was a good servant. For the first time in my life, I felt raw power within myself. People, albeit Death Eaters, feared me.

I began to venture out of the lab. I killed my first opponent. His name was Stephen. He was 24. He had a wife and a child on the way. That night I could not sleep, but I did not cry. I had become too hard. Tear could no longer consume my eyes.

One day, I found myself in Hogsmeade after work. I decided to grab a drink at the Hog's Head. The Head was a run down bar with that served shady individuals who preferred privacy. No one would disrupt my solitude.

I sat and ordered a drink. The liquor tasted like mold. It did little to easy my depression. Alcohol never did. Not for long, at least.

A half hour passed before Professor Dumbledore entered the bar. The barman led him to a private upstairs room.

I do not know what possessed me to do it, but as he climbed the stairs toward his meeting, I followed closely behind.

My eavesdropping remained undetected for a while. I listened to a prospective professor dabble on about her so-called skills. I was just as unimpressed as Dumbledore later insured me he had been.

However, she suddenly began to speak in a new voice. She began to prophesize. I listened rapidly. My Lord would indeed be thankful for me having listened in.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"_

That was when Aberforth Dumbledore found me. He questioned me and I murmured something about having been lost on my way to the toilet. Without a thought, the barkeeper barged into Dumbledore's room, all the while yelling with absolutely no decorum.

Somehow, I made it out of the bar that night alive and bowed before my Master. I recited to him what I had learned and the Dark Lord was indeed pleased. I was to be rewarded. I just could not forget the look in Dumbledore's eyes. I could not place it until much later. It was pity.

The seventh months came and passed before I was summoned to the Dark Lord for a private meeting. I arrived on time and was taken immediately to my Lord's innermost chamber. It was an honour and a gesture he knew would not go unnoticed given my mother's training.

"My rival has been born," the Dark Lord hissed after I was seated. The man, if one could call him that, licked his lips.

"Yes, my Lord," I bowed my head.

"I plan on killing him young," my Lord continued, his crimson eyes shining with excitement. " While he is still weak, and innocent."

It was logical. I understood my Lord's reasoning. It would be effortless. I did not need to speak these words aloud; I merely let them slip through my occlumency shield.

"I am glad you approve, Severus," he purred. Then, the Dark Lord smiled. It was an action so out of place on his inhuman looking face that the gesture seemed more gruesome than any kind of rage. "However, I have decided to let him live a year with his parents. To let the family become attached… Then, I will kill him. The pain will be all the more sweet."

This was typical of the Dark Lord. He loved pain. He fed off of it. He welcomed the suffering of the mother and the father. I had watched the Dark Lord murder countless children and innocent babies in front of their parents. Then, he would blind them so that the babe's death would be the last sight they would ever see. It was the worst type of torture.

"Who will you be killing, my Lord?" I asked boldly.

He chucked cruelly, "The prophecy speaks of a boy born as the seventh month dies. Two such boys now have been born to the Light side."

I looked into his face intently. I had long since grown not to mind its disfiguration.

"The first, Neville Longbottom, a pureblood," the Dark Lord sneered. "And the second… Harry Potter."

I felt faint. My occlumency shield nearly fell. Harry Potter. Lily's… Son?

"I intend to kill only one," the Lord smiled again, humorlessly. "The half-blood, Harry Potter."

I forced myself to regain my composure. "And what of his parents?"

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow at me. "They will die."

"But my Lord!" I gasped. I could not let him kill my love!

The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow at me. I knew I had earned the look. I had detached myself from emotion for so long, but this reopened my wounds. I was forced again to feel. It was a show of weakness I should not have allowed to occur. He was disappointed.

"Yes?"

"Please…" I asked, my voice a whisper, "Do not kill Lily Evans."

Dark Lord turned away from me. "You do know Severus, that love is a weakness. And I can not tolerate my followers being... weak."

I bowed my head in apology.

Then the Dark Lord said the thing I know changed my opinion of him forever.

"I do not make promises," he hissed.

I was devastated. I could not believe that the prophecy I presented to the Dark Lord would be the cause of my love's death. Yes, my love. I still called her that. I had never stopped loving her and I knew I never would. I had tried to hate her, but the effort was always in vain. I could not escape her. I could not even cast a Patronus, as mine took the same form as her doe. It had since the night of her final rejection.

That was when I wondered where I had gone wrong. My life was not supposed to be this way.

Days passed before I decided that I could not sit idly. I made a decision, one so drastic that it radically altered the course of my life.

I went to Dumbledore.

I confessed to being a Death Eater and I told Dumbledore that my Lord was targeting the Potters. I asked for the old man to hide them, to keep them—her—safe. He asked me what I would do in return. _"Anything"_ was my response.

That anything turned out to be becoming an agent for Dumbledore. A spy. I also took a post as the potions master of Hogwarts. I was not allowed to claim the position of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Although it pains me, I do admit that that was a wise decision. I was far too Dark then.

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord was pleased. He thought he had gained a link to Dumbledore, a spy. I was rewarded, exalted even. Little did he know my loyalties had switched.

On the thirsty first of October 1980, Lily Evans was murdered and her son, Harry, survived. I was devastated.

In rage, I went to Dumbledore. He had promised to keep her safe. He had given me his word. I was outraged.

Lily was gone. The one person who had ever understood me, dead. That night, I cried for the first time in years. I always cried over her, it seemed always to be the only worthy reason.

I vowed to visit Lily's grave every year on the anniversary of her death. Each year I brought her a white lily. A lily for a Lily, I would remember. The memory made me smile.

I did not see Harry Potter in his early years, but when he wandered into my classroom, my heart broke again. He had eyes a bright and beautiful green. Lily's eyes.

I knew in that moment that I had purpose again. I knew that I would protect this boy. I would surely die for this boy. Yes, he was the spawn of James Potter, but he was also Lily's son. The good without a doubt overrode the bad.

I admit, throughout his years at Hogwarts, I was hard on Harry Potter. Terrible, even. I was constantly fighting… It was hard for me to see him when she was dead; when she died for _him_.

Perhaps there was also a degree of jealously. He was a testament to the fact that she had loved someone else. He looked just like Potter. Also, she had loved Harry so much that she protected him from death, yet she had left me standing in the road with the ghost of a kiss dancing across my lips.

Later, when the Dark Lord returned to power I stood by his side, but only in body. He did not suspect a thing and I knew he never would.

Dumbledore was pleased with me. I was his best spy. He was so pleased that one afternoon during what was Harry Potter's sixth year he chose to entrust me with an extremely vital and earth shattering piece of information.

Harry Potter was going to die.

"You have used me!" I cried bitterly, "I have spied for you, lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter's son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—"

"But this is touching, Severus. Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?" Dumbledore asked me with a twinkle in his eye.

Of course I cared about the boy. He was her son. I loved him. I had only ever changed sides for Lily, and after her death I had stayed to protect her son. It enraged me to know that Dumbledore saw Harry only as a pawn in the destruction of the Dark Lord. That was a fault of all Light Lords, like Dumbledore. They worked for the greater good of humanity, all the while making sacrifices.

Albus continued to explain to me his plan.

I was to kill Dumbledore. The Dark Lord would not claim that victory. Why? Because Albus Dumbledore possessed the Elder Wand; an object so powerful that it could not under any circumstance be obtained by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I promised to always guard Hogwarts and its students.

The plan was put into motion far too soon. Within the year, Dumbledore was dead and Harry Potter was gone to hunt down the Dark Lord's horcruxes. Again, I missed those emerald green eyes just as I had after Lily had left my life. Even on a boy, or now, a man's face, they were beautiful.

I was made Head Master of Hogwarts, and the Dark side began to gain on the Light. It was a terrifying time, and I cannot believe that I emerged unscathed from that year.

I took orders from Dumbledore's portrait on how to act and what to do. It had been a few months after his disappearance when Dumbledore told me that Harry would be in need of an object with which to destroy the horcruxes. I was instructed to give Harry the sword of Gryffindor, without him discovering my identity.

I planned everything carefully. After much searching, I was able to locate the boy through the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. I dropped the Sword of Gryffindor into a shallow silver pond and cast my patronus, the doe.

"After all this time," Albus had marveled when he had seen my patronus the year before in his study. It had not changed once in my life. "Always," I replied. Always. My patronus would always be a doe. I had always loved Lily and I always would.

A patronus is an extremely powerful magical figment, not only because it is pure happiness, but also because it is the reflection of one's soul. For my entire life, my soul had been held captive by Lily Evans. Therefore, my patronus was the essence of Lily, a reflection of my love for her. It was a doe because she was a doe. She was beautiful, caring, graceful, and as I hated to be reminded, the mate of the stag.

When Harry Potter saw my patronus, he truly met his mother for the first time. He accepted that part of my soul and was so drawn to it because it was truly what he wanted most in life. It was painful for me to watch the doe reuniting with Harry, who looked so much like the human form of her stag, James Potter. When the doe faded, Harry called out to her. I felt his pain. We had both loved her, Lily, the doe, and we had both lost her.

I turned and left, knowing that I had done right.

Months passed and the final battle loomed like a dark cloud over Hogwarts. Even the creatures of the Forbidden Forest knew it was inevitable.

On May 27th 1998, battle commenced.

The fight had barely started when I was summoned to the Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack. He looked at me with his crimson eyes mocking and malicious, and declared that I would die. He needed the Elder Wand.

He would not get it either way, but I knew could not die yet.

Then, I noticed Harry. He was kneeling near to me.

I drew my wand to my temple and my most sacred memories surfaced. They were memories of Lily, of our time together, spanning through childhood and into later days. But I needed more. I needed to show the boy what to do. I forced the memories of my conversation with Albus out from my head. Then, I handed those memories, the very thoughts that had kept me alive, that kept me light and good, to Harry Potter.

"Look at me," I whispered to the shocked boy as I lay, a broken man, about to be killed by the Dark Lord's monster.

He did. I looked into Harry Potter's eyes and I saw Lily Evans.

Those eyes, the most beautiful emerald green had saved me. They had reminded me how to love. They had haunted my dreams, turned nightmares into fairy tales. They had kept me whole and good and true. They gave me reason to be brave. Reason to breathe. I owed those eyes everything.

All I ever wanted was to die looking into those eyes.

I got my wish.

* * *

_Some excerpts of dialogue belong to JKR._


	11. Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander

**Star-Crossed Naturalists**

_(Luna Lovegood/Rolf Scamander)_

_by_

_Julia Claire (Ravenclaw)_

"Oh, no," Ed Johnson groaned. "Not her! "

"Who?" Rolf asked. He'd been working at the preserve for nearly eight years, but he didn't recognize the blonde woman striding towards them.

"She's new," Ed muttered. "Just started. Absolutely _crazy_."

Rolf frowned, "Is she wearing - "

"Radish earrings?" Trish Dare finished. "Yep. You've probably heard of - Oh, hi, Luna."

"Hi," the woman smiled brightly, although there was a rather knowing look in her eyes that made Rolf wonder if she knew what they'd been saying. "John told me I'm working with you three today?"

"That's right," Ed sighed, looking as though he wished it wasn't. "Luna, I think you've met Trish, and this here is Rolf."

"Hello," he said, shaking her hand. She nodded at him.

"Alright," Trish said, "What are we doing today, Ed?"

"Checking on the unicorn population," he answered, "It's been kinda low these past couple years, and we're going to have to keep a closer eye on it from now on. We might have to relocate a couple of the graphorns if things don't improve."

"It's foal season, though," Rolf pointed out. "Shouldn't it be a group of all woman checking on them?"

"Oh, Merlin!" Ed exclaimed sarcastically. "Rolf, you're right! I don't know what we idiots would do without your famous expertise."

"Leave him alone, Ed," Trish grinned as Rolf blushed. Ed was always poking fun at him because, despite the fact that he was a Scamander, arguably the most well-known name in Magizoology, he really wasn't all that skilled of a naturalist. He could recite Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by heart, but his spell-casting was mediocre at best.

"Lissa and Mark went up to Mark's mum's house for his cousin's wedding, and Anna's sick," Trish explained. "It's actually good we have Luna now, because otherwise John would've had to send Frank, and he scares the living daylights out of the foals."

"I do reckon we should split up though," Ed said, "Four people's a lot to check on unicorns anyway, especially when there's foals. It's too big of a job for only two people, though."

Rolf inwardly rolled his eyes, wondering why Ed couldn't have just said so in response to his earlier comment.

"Alright," Trish agreed. "So I'll go with you, Ed, and Rolf can go with Luna?"

"Sounds good," Ed nodded, "Have fun, Dream Team!"

"Bye," Rolf said as they separated, trying not to look peeved. He glanced over at Luna. She was probably in her late twenties, the same as he was, but somehow he felt as if he'd been left in charge of someone much younger. Perhaps it was the radish earrings, the butterbeer cap necklace he had only just noticed, or the way she was humming softly under her breath.

"He doesn't like me, does he?" Luna remarked casually when the others were out of sight.

"Er - "

"It's okay," Luna said with a smile that almost looked sad. "I'm used to it."

She didn't look too upset, but suddenly, he felt rather bad for her. They walked in silence for a few minutes, until he asked her, "Where did you go to school?"

"Hogwarts," she replied. "You?"

"I didn't," he answered, "My grandad taught me at home." Which was probably why he was rubbish at magic, Rolf thought bitterly. Newt Scamander was an excellent Magizoologist, but he wasn't the best teacher, much more prone to giving long-winded lectures about his old glory days than actually teaching spells."Hogwarts, though. Did you know Harry Potter? "

"Yeah," she answered."He's actually a friend of mine. One of the only ones I had at school..."

"Wow," he responded, although privately he wondered if she was lying about them being friends. Perhaps, though, she'd just believed that they were - she must have gone to school with him, afterall. They must be about the same age.

"He could be a bit of a whiner," she went on. "But he's quite nice. Ooh, look," she lowered her voice to a whisper. "There's a unicorn."

"Where?" he asked.

"Over there, by that tree with the broken branch. See it?"

"Yep," he said quietly, "I just have to mark it."

He sent a spell at it, but the jet of light flew just over its back. The unicorn leaped away, but not before Luna had sent another spell at it. It hit the unicorn directly on its back, but instead of leaving a red X that would fade after a few hours, as Rolf's would have, a garland of flowers appeared around its neck.

The unicorn and its new necklace disappeared into the trees. Rolf turned to Luna, at a loss for what to say. "Uh... we're just supposed to mark them with a red X. So we don't count the same unicorn twice."

"I know," she said dreamily. "But I always worry that it hurts them, and my way works too, right?"

"Right..." he said slowly, wondering what Ed and Trish would think when they saw a parade of unicorns wearing necklaces.

Rolf wasn't exactly sure what to think of this woman, but she was starting to seriously annoy him.

A few hours later, Rolf began to have a change of heart. Not that he was being particularly accepting with this new opinion - Luna had, after all, just saved his life. He stared incredulously down at the two graphorns, fierce horned beasts that had permanently scarred trolls, that Luna had effectively stunned just before they killed them both, while Rolf had only thrown his hands in front of his face.

It took his five minutes to stop shaking and collect himself enough to say more than a few muttered curses. "Sweet Merlin!" he finally managed. "You just saved my life! Thank you."

Those last few words sounded completely empty, but, really, it was an impossible situation. How did a wimpy naturalist from a famous family thank an eccentric witch who saved him from two graphorns? Rolf was almost certain that Dumbledore himself wouldn't have had an answer for that.

She smiled at him, but didn't say anything. Still slightly surprised just to be alive, he babbled on, "I mean, I don't even know you! I met you two bloody hours ago! And you just saved my bloody life!"

"It was just a couple of Stunning Spells," she said bemusedly. "No big deal."

"Yeah," he laughed, "That's what my grandad would say. He'd be so ashamed if he knew you had to save me."

"Was your grandad a naturalist too?"

He stopped in his tracks. This was new to him - someone that didn't know who his family was.

"What?" he said. "Oh. Yeah, he is."

"I'm sure he wouldn't be ashamed of you," Luna said, "Graphorns _are_ rather intimidating."

Rolf laughed bittely. His grandad, and even his parents, for that matter, would have a coronary if they knew he couldn't even deal with graphorns...

"Rolf?"

"My family have been naturalists for generations," he admitted darkly, "I like being a Magizoologist and all, but I'm nowhere near as good as my grandad was..."

"That's just your opinion," she pointed out. "It's not necesarily true."

He shook his head. "No, it's definitely true. I'm a bit of a disappointment to everyone. That's why Ed was teasing me before."

"Well, _I_won't make fun of you. I know what that's like," she said seriously, "And if it helps, my name has never exactly been an asset for me, seeing what field I chose. I love Daddy, but some of his work in the field of Magizoology has made it harder for me. It's own of the worst jobs I could have, considering my name," she stopped and thought about that for a moment, "Being a journalist would have been hard too."

"My mum and grandad would have forced me to a naturalist whether I wanted to or not," he said sourly, "I'm just lucky it was the former."

"This is stupid," Luna said, "We should just tell each other our surnames instead of all these cryptic comments. Although you might run screaming when you hear mine, especially if you're family's big in Magizoology."

"How bad can it be?" he said nervously, "I mean, your name isn't Luna You-Know-Who, is it?"

She laughed, and he found that he was liked the sound of it."In the naturalist world? Worse."

He didn't have anything to say to that, so after a moment she asked, "On the count of three, then?"

"Er, yeah, I suppose," he grimaced. He really didn't want to tell her, even she was rather eccentric. She already knew what an inept naturalist he was. She just didn't know he was like that despite Newt Scamander's training. (Which was assumed by most people to have been excellent. It wasn't as though he could contradict them.)

"One, two, three," she counted.

"Lovegood."

"Scamander."

"Oh, horn of a Snorkack!" Luna chortled.

Rolf laughed too. Then he stopped. "Wait, you don't actually believe in them, do you?"

"Not anymore," she said, her face growing suddenly sad. "Sometimes, though, I wish I still did."

Luna Lovegood was rather eccentric, the kind of person who danced to her own beat. Rolf Scamander was a bit of a wimp, the worst naturalist in the family, and an excellent worrier. There were five hundred reasons why it never should have happened, but perhaps that was exactly why it did.

Four years later, they were walking along the beach of the preserve where they first met. It was beautiful night - the perfect night to propose, but Rolf just couldn't do it. They'd been dating nearly three and a half years and he loved her so much - he loved her laugh, how she was always dead honest without being mean - even her eccentricity had endeared her to him. It was nice, sometimes, to do things differently, he had realised. Rolf and Luna always marked the unicorns with garlands now, much to the annoyance of all the others working on the preserve. She'd also helped him a lot with Magizoology - they'd even discovered a new species together a year ago.

"Luna?" he asked for about the tenth time that night. "Will you - " He stopped. Again. Why couldn't he get the bloody words out? He had the ring. Why could he just ask?

"Yes, Rolf?" she prompted after a minute.

"Will you - walk with me a bit further."

"Of course," she said, looking amused. He didn't know how she put up with him.

"Luna?" he said a few minutes later, trying to steel himself. This time, he would do it.

"Yeah?"

He started to kneel and then straightened up. "Moon's beautiful tonight," he remarked determinedly, as though he'd been planning to say so all along.

"Yes, it is," she laughed, "And Rolf?"

"Yeah, Luna?"

"You can stop worrying. Of course I'll marry you."

"How did - how'd you - "

"You were pretty obvious," she smiled, "Sorry if I stole your thunder, but I really couldn't take it anymore."

He kissed her.

"Luna, this is a really bad idea."

"We're engaged, Rolf. Our families will have to meet each other at some point. Do you really want it to be at the wedding?"

He blanched. "No, but I still think that inviting them all to dinner in the same house, where they will meet for the first time, and then tell them that we're getting married in three months is a little crazy."

"It's just my dad, and your parents and grandad. How bad could it be?"

"How bad could it be?" Rolf repeated incredulously. "Luna, do you remember how long it took for my family to admit that we'd actually discovered the a new creature, the Ruber Ferox, and it wasn't just an imaginary creature that you'd hoodwinked me into believing in?"

She shrugged. "A lot of people have trouble believing the things I believe."

"And the first few times you came to our place for dinner, Grandad asked you five million questions about what magical beasts you believe in!"

Luna started to say something, but Rolf kept going, "And no offense or anything, but you're dad is always blaming me for "converting you" or asking why my grandad never answered his letters - "

"It's not his fault," she said sadly, "Life hasn't been easy for him, having to raise me on his own, losing Mum... But I gave up believing in Snorkacks and things long before I met you."

"I know," he said, although privately he thought that Xeno's problems had more to do with some missing screws in his head than with a missing wife. "But don't you see this why this isn't a smart move? At least we could make it a slower adjustment. Maybe just have dinner together today, and announce the wedding some other time..."

"Rolf," Luna looked straight at him, "It's an argument over which _animals_ exist."

There was a knock on the door.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Rolf moaned.

Luna looked pained, but not, he realised, for the same reasons that Rolf did, "If you're ashamed of me, then we shouldn't be getting married."

"I'm not ashamed of you!" he exclaimed, although he knew that it was true, to some extent.

"Tell your family that, then," she said, "Or at least tell me that you are ashamed. I love you, and all, but you can be such a coward!"

"Luna - "

She had already left the room, which was just as well. How could you argue with someone who was so right?

Rolf found the answer later that night. It didn't really solve his problems, but it did make him marvel slightly at how well Luna's father argued in the face of all logic. Perhaps he was never going to convince anyone else, but Rolf could see that he truly believed everything he was saying, which was more than Rolf could manage.

"Newt, I explained all this in my letters, and if you'd answered them - "

"Or even read them," Rolf muttered to Luna, who ignored him.

"Then you'd see what I'm talking about!" Xeno continued, oblivious. "The Crumpled-Horned Snorkack - "

"Doesn't exist, " Rolf's dad cut in. "Xeno where's the evidence?"

"Where's the evidence?" Xeno roared. "Where's the evidence to the contrary is what I want to know!"

"But that's totally illogical," Rolf's grandfather pointed out.

"He's right up to a point," Luna said, "I mean, anything could exist, couldn't it? None of us believed in the Ferox until Rolf and I discovered it."

"I suppose that's true," Newt admitted, though he was looking a little distastefully at both of the Lovegoods.

"I believed in it," Xeno said determinedly.

"You never mentioned a Ferox in the Quibbler," Rolf's mum said sharply.

"I would've believed in it, though," Xeno said, "Even without proof. If someone described a creature like that, I'd have believed in it."

"I'm sure you would have," Luna said, smiling slightly.

"Is everyone ready for dinner, then?" asked Rolf, all too ready to end this little scene.

"Did you make this, Luna?" Rolf's mum asked, after they'd all sat down and started on their stew.

"Oh, no," she replied, "I'm much to experimental as a cook to make meals for guests. Or at least that's what Rolf says. He's the one that made dinner."

"Oh," Mrs. Scamander. Rolf noticed she dug into her food more eagerly than before.

"You should've made dinner, Luna," Xeno said, looking a little disappointed with the meal, as if it wasn't interesting enough for him, "Luna and I have a lovely recipe for . "

"You eat those thing?" Rolf's grandad looked alarmed, "Are you people crazy?" He looked a little sheepish, and laughed uneasily, as if trying to pass it off as a joke.

"Some people think so," Luna said cheerily.

Rolf took a moment to reflect on how much he loved his fiancee.

After dinner, they go back to the sitting room. Luna kept looking over at Rolf, her eyes clearly asking, "Can we tell them now?"

He shook his head vehemently every time. He was scared of how his family would react.

Luna looked at him, and he heard an echo in his head of what she'd said earlier, _"You can be such a coward..."_

He looked at Luna, and then looked at his family, who were in the midst of arguing with Xeno about the existence of Wrackspurts. Why they couldn't just let it go was a mystery to Rolf. What did it matter really what Xeno published in his magazine? It wasn't as if anyone took it seriously.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he realised who he needed in his life more.

"Mum, Dad, Grandad, Mr. Lovegood?" he said, reaching for Luna's hand. "Luna and I have something to tell you..."

"Yes, son?" Mr. Scamander asked, taking off his glasses and polishing them, which he always did when he was nervous.

He looked over at Luna, who grinned at him and nodded for him to go on.

"... We're getting married."

The reaction was exactly what Rolf had expected, which, ironically, was exactly the opposite of what most families would do when a wedding was announced.

"No!" Xeno gasped. "Luna, what are you thinking?"

"Rolf?" His grandad asked. "Is this some kind of joke?"

His parents didn't say anything, but they look deeply stricken, as if he had just announced that he was a murderer.

Actually, Rolf mused, they would probably prefer that. The whole thing suddenly seemed hilarious. He really didn't care what they thought of his marriage. It wasn't as though they weren't going to disown him over this. Probably.

The only thing he cared about at the moment was Luna, who squeezed his hand and grinned broadly.

"Luna," Xeno said, staring at his daughter with tears in his eyes. "You are making a grave mistake! Are you being possessed by Wrackspurts?"

"Oh not again with the bloody Wrackspurts!" Newt groaned. "The only good thing about this wedding announcement was that you stopped talking about them!"

"Daddy, I love Rolf - "

"But he's a Scamander!" Mr. Lovegood cried. "Do you really want to be associated with the people who wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Rolf's grandad cut in, looking highly affronted. "It's better than being associated with the _Quibbler_!"

"I never thought this would happen," Rolf's mother said.

"We've been dating for four years!" Rolf pointed out.

"Maybe we were just hoping it wouldn't," Rolf's father sighed.

"But Luna!" Xeno said, his voice rising hysterically, "Your name will be Luna _Scamander_!" He paused for a second, then added hopefully, "Unless Rolf takes the name Lovegood!"

"Absolutely not," Newt thundered. "Rolf Lovegood indeed... I will not have my grandson disgraced in such a manner!"

"Well, it's really not your chioce, is it?" Rolf pointed out.

His grandad gasped. "Surely - "

"We hadn't really discussed it yet, to be honest," Luna said, "I don't mind being a Scamander, but we could sort of compromise - "

"And be _what_?" Rolf's mum asked. "The Scamgoods? The Lovemanders?"

Rolf and Luna laughed, but no one else even cracked a smile.

"This is the end," Xeno cried, sounding close to tears.

"No, it's not, Daddy," Luna soothed, hugging him. "It's a beginning."

"The beginning of the end, then," Xeno moaned.

"No," Luna rolled her eyes, "It's the beginnig of, well, love, I suppose."

And a whole lot of crazy, Rolf thought.

"You don't believe in the creatures anymore," he gulped, sounding more like a five-year-old than an old man, "And now you're marrying one of _them_!"

Rolf wondered whether the them applied only to the Scamanders, or anyone who didn't believe Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. He reckoned it was probably the latter, although how in the name of Merlin Xeno had thought that his daughter would find anyone to marry under those conditions was beyond him.

"Rolf," his dad hissed at him while Luna comforted her father some more, "What are you thinking?"

Rolf looked over at Luna for a moment, at her raddish earrings and necklace that was made of acorns, and then turned back to his father and said in a loud voice, "I'm thinking I love Luna."

Unsurprisingly, this statement only fed the fire. Rolf no longer cared.

"It really is the beginning of love," Luna remarked later that night in Rolf's kitchen, where they'd retired after their families had left.

"Between us, yeah," he agreed, "But as for the rest of it - "

"It's a beginning, too," she cut him off, leaning her head on his shoulder, her messy blonde hair falling across his chest, "The start of a new family."

"Are you serious? The start of a new family?" he snorted. "I'm actually going to have to agree with you dad for what I hope, no offense, is the first and last time in my life. That dinner looked more like the end of the world than the beginning of love and a new family."

"Is there a difference?" she asked, smiling slightly. "It could be both, couldn't it? For every end, there's a beginning."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, "I reckon that people with regular familes can announce their engagement without so much hassle. And I'm not even talking about your dad - my family is positively abnormal."

"Get it out of you head, Rolf," she smiled. "There's no such thing as normal."


	12. Professor Snape and Potions

**Tell Me A Story **

_(Professor Snape/His love of Potions)_

_by_

_Slytherin Head (Slytherin)_

**_A/N- This is an AU story._**

_Nine-year-old Harry looked at his guardian who was standing next to him. It had been almost a year since he had been taken from the "care" of the Dursley's., His guardian was slowly helping him understand that he was not a useless freak. Harry now knew better than that. He now knew that his parents had died while trying to protect him and not in car crash.. He now knew that all the "freakish" things that he did, as Vernon use to say, were really magic. He, Harry James Potter-Snape, was a wizard._

And really, it was the coolest thing in the world.

"Harry! Keep your eyes on the potion!"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"If you want to make it out alive from a potions lab, you must always pay attention to your work. Otherwise, St. Mungo's will have to scrape whatever is left of you off the walls."

Gulping, Harry concentrated harder on his work.

ooooOoooo

Two hours later, Harry was nervously rocking from foot to foot while Severus examine his potion. The man had his poker face on, and it made Harry really anxious. How was he suppose to know if he did a good job when Severus wasn't even blinking?

"Mr. Potter, this potion is…" Harry held his breath. "…passable, I suppose. Please pack it up with the rest of the potions that will be sent to Madam Pomfrey, and clean up your station. When you are finished, I'll be waiting for you in the yard with lunch."

Harry was speechless. Passable? His potion was passable? That was the highest praise anyone could get from the man! Really now, if it wasn't for wanting to keep his cool, he knew that at that moment he would be jumping around the lab high-five-ing every invisible being in the place.

ooooOoooo

Severus had been teaching him to clean up as he worked on a potion so it didn't take long for Harry to finish this task. When he made it out to the patio, Severus was just setting the pumpkin juice down.

"All done! Are we going to Hogwarts to drop it off at the infirmary, or are you going to use your owl instead?"

"It all depends if a certain brat eats all of his lunch along with his potions."

While his guardian turned back to get Harry's nutritive potion from the kitchen, Harry couldn't help but make a face at the thought of having to take his potion. It tasted awful.

"Make that face again and we wont go and visit your godmother either."

"Awww!" But I can't help it. That potion tastes…"

The stern look that Severus sent Harry was enough for the small boy to keep quiet and eat his meal. Harry knew that there was still a small chance that he would be able to go to Hogwarts, but he had to be really good through all of lunch.

Harry waited till Severus was done with his meal before bouncing off his chair and following the tall man back to the house, although with his small legs it was more like he was running after his guardian. When they were standing at the front door Harry could have sworn he saw a small smile on Severus' face, but it was gone before he could fix his glasses.

"Now," Severus said as he summoned their cloaks. "You know the rules young man. You are to stay by my side at all times unless I give you permission to go elsewhere."

"Am I going to get to see my godmother, sir?" Harry asked timidly.

"Perhaps," Severus said. "But if we do, Nymphadora and you are to stay away from all things breakable. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir. I don't want Tonks to break her arm again. It looked liked it hurt a lot,"Harry said with a slight wince.

After making sure that Harry's cloak was on right, the two of them walked outside the house and towards the Apparition site. Knowing the routine, Harry wrapped his arms around Seveus' waist as the Potions master made sure one last time that the potions that Poppy needed were in his pocket. Once he was sure that he had everything, Severus wrapped his own arm around Harry's shoulders and Disapparated to Hogwarts.

ooooOoooo

"Dad? How did Tonks manage to break a leg when we were just swimming in the lake?" a sleepy Harry asked Severus as they made their way to the dungeons. It was too late to Apparate back to their house.

So, instead the Potions master was now carrying his adopted son down to their rooms in the dungeons. He knew that Harry was sleepy because it was the only time when the small boy felt safe enough to call him dad. "I honestly do not know, son. It's a miracle she hasn't broken every bone in her body at least twice."

Harry giggled, giving off another sign that he was really tired.

When they finally made it to their rooms, Severus helped Harry into his pajamas and tucked him in bed. Thinking that the small boy had fallen asleep, he brushed some hair away from Harry's face and was about to walk away when he felt a small hand grab his own.

Looking down he saw that Harry was barely keeping his eyes open. "Harry, go to sleep," he ordered.

"Dad, tell me a story, please?"

"You know I can't tell stories..." Whatever else Severus was planning on saying was cut short when he saw what Harry was doing. 'Oh, no. NO! Not that. Anything but that, please! Damn. Puppy eyes. You, Severus Snape, can stand up against Death Eaters but you can't stand up against a nine-year-old's puppy eyes? You're going soft.'

Before a tantrum started Severus quickly summoned a chair and sat down next to Harry's bed. Still holding the small boy's hand he asked the dreaded question. "What kind of story do you want to hear?"

'Lectures upon lectures. Reports after reports and I'm nervous about telling a kid's night tale?'

"Tell me about when you first fell in love with…"

'Oh, sweet Merlin, please don't say Lily.'

"Potions."

"What?" Severus asked, making sure that he had heard right.

"Tell me about when you first fell in love with Potions. Please?"

Should he tell this small boy about how it all happened? Would he able to understand? Of course he would, he'd had the same life for eight years. "Are you sure? Son, it's not a nice tale."

"Please, Daddy!"

"Fine, but close your eyes." Taking a deep breath Severus prepared himself for a long night.

'Idiot, you fell for the word "Daddy". Pathetic.'

"The first potion I ever made was when I was five. I had made it for my mother who was very ill at the time. It was Fever Reducer, but it took me longer than usual to make it."

"Because you were so young?" Harry asked.

"No, it took such a long time because my father hated anything to do with magic."

"Just like the Dursleys?"

"Exactly, like them. Harry are you sure about this?"

'Don't worry, Daddy," Harry said giving Severus' hand a squeeze. "I'm okay."

Taking the small boy's hand in both of his Severus told his tale.

1966- October

"Boy! Get yer arse down her' righ' now!"

"Yes, sir." A small boy walked down the stairs towards the living room. He knew what was coming, but he was determine not to show any fear. He had to be strong for his mother's sake.

Once he was standing in front of his father, he braced himself for the punishment that his father was really to leash out on him. He didn't look at his father. No, he wasn't stupid enough to do so. Making eye contact with him would just anger him further and make him think that Severus was trying to defy him.

As he looked at the shoelaces of his worn out trainers, he could have sworn that his father indeed had magic, because it seemed as if time had slowed down. What was the monster thinking about. Was he trying to think of a new way to use the belt? Or was he thinking that maybe the belt wasn't enough now and was looking around their small home trying to find something that would hurt more than the belt.

After what seemed like an eternity, Severus was knocked down to the floor by his father's fist. The hit was so hard Severus was seeing stars. He could feel something warm trailing down his face and knew that his nose was broken.

"You worthless freak!" Tobias said as he aimed a kick to the small boys midsection. "Why can't you be normal like the other boys?"

Another kick made contact with Severus, this time with the back of his head. Tobias was still wearing his work boots so the pain was intensified. The only thing Severus could do was curl up in a ball and try to protect the front of this body.

ooooOoooo

Severus was trying to keep his arm up as he carefully stirred the potion for his mother's fever. His father didn't care that she was sick. He didn't give any money to Severus so the little boy could buy some Muggle medicine. When it didn't look like the fever was going to break anytime soon, Severus decided to try his hand at potions.

According to the text, the potion was suppose to take only a day to make, but because he had to keep it hidden from his father it had taken almost three days. His mother's fever was still very high, and Severus knew that if he didn't do something soon, she was going to die. He wasn't going to let that happen because she was the only happiness that he had in his life.

Looking down at the now finished potion, Severus waited for it to cool down. Now he knew why his mum had loved potions when she was at Hogwarts. There was something soothing about making a potion with your own two hands and knowing that it was going to help someone.

He was grateful that his mum had been teaching him since he was three about the different properties of certain ingredients and also the uses of some common potions. If she hadn't, he doubted that he would've had the courage to try making such an advanced potion.

"Severus?" The voice was so low he almost didn't hear it.

Turning around he saw his mum standing near the kitchen doorway, using the wall to support herself. Her thin frame was shaking from the fever. Her skin was paler than usual; she almost looked like a walking corpse.

"Mum! Go back to bed; you shouldn't be up." Jumping off the chair he was using to stand over the counter, Severus walked towards his mum and took her hand. "Come on, let's get you back to your room. Did you want something to eat? Is that why you got up?"

"No, that's not it," Eileen said in almost a whisper. "I wanted to see what you were doing. I thought perhaps you were reading. I never expected to see you brewing."

"I had to figure out a way to help you, Mum. I don't want to see you like this. Besides, it's my job to look after you."

They had made it to Eileen's room, and Severus was helping her get back in bed. Her small trip had taken a lot out of her, and she looked even more pale than before.

"I thought it was my job to take care of you." Tears fell from Eileen's face as she cradled Severus' small face in her hands. "Look at what that monster did to you." Her fingers carefully caressed his broken nose. By the time she got better it would be too late to fix his nose back to the way it was. Now, it had a small hook to it.

"I'm fine, Mum! Honest! Don't worry about me, okay? Just sleep so you can get better."

Eileen gently stroked Severus face as sleep slowly took over. "My brave, little prince."

When he was sure that his mum was sleeping, Severus started planning. He knew that if his potion didn't work, then he would either risk taking his mum to the hospital or call his godmother. Neither of those two ideas pleased him, but he wasn't about to just sit and do nothing, like his father.

When his mother woke up again, Severus was able to give her the Fever Reducer. His mother wasn't able to stay awake long enough for him to ask her if he had made the potion right. But after a couple of minutes he watched in amazement as her fever broke, and her temperature began to return to a lower level.

He couldn't help the tears of relief that fell from his eyes. After all the years that his father had told him he was useless, now he could prove the man wrong.

"What do you think about that, Father?" He said through his tears. "I did something without messing up. I did something you would never in your life have the guts to do. If this is what it feels like to help someone—to cure someone you love—I want to do it for the rest of my life. If I can make a potion meant for a fifth year, then I can certainty give mum a better life than this one."

Somewhere inside of him courage began to burn. Without thinking about it, Severus got up, wiped the tears from his face, and made his way downstairs.

ooooOoooo

"What happened when you left the room, Dad?" Harry was now perched on Severus' lap with his head resting against his father's chest.

Severus gave a small chuckle. "I went and told my father what a useless toe-rag he was. He in turn beat the snot out of me. But, because I knew what I could do, he couldn't make me feel miserable."

"So, that's why you love Potions? Because they were easy for you to make?"

"No, son. I love Potions because they helped me take care of the people I loved the most. After my mum was better I kept making more potions. Salves for bruises, cuts and burns. It was my specialty. I could make them without having to look at the text by the time I was your age."

"Brilliant" Harry sleepily said.

Severus simply smiled and gathered the small boy in his arms, laying him back into the bed. Tucking the covers around the little boy, he waited until Harry's breathing evened out. Dimming the light, he walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly open in case Harry woke up later in the night.

Sitting down in his favorite chair in front of the fire, he thought back to when he had made that potion for the very first time. Severus wondered if his father had not been the abusive monster that he had been, would he have ever dared to make such a complicated potion.

"No," he said to himself. "I was so desperate to help mum. That's the only reason why I had even dared to brew, knowing that if he had found out, I would have been beaten senseless."

He knew that had the past been different he would have been one of those boys who were crazy about sports. He hadn't had time for sports. He had to take care of those he loved, even if they were taken away from him later on. He remembered working non-stop in his sixth year at Hogwarts trying to find a cure for cancer. His mum had been diagnosed with it, and they had given her a year to live.

But he hadn't been able to do anything. He had to stand by in the end and watch as the only person who had ever loved him was taken away from him.

Looking at the door to Harry's room he vowed that he wouldn't let anyone take away that small angel from him. He didn't know when it had happened, but he knew that if anything were to happen to Harry he would never forgive himself. He would use his Potions skills, his first love, and protect that little boy from those who worshiped the Dark.


	13. Remus Lupin and N Tonks and Teddy Lupin

_**As Lovers Go**_

_(Remus Lupin/N. Tonks/Teddy Lupin)_

_by_

_Vanity Sinning (Slytherin)_

**_Remus _**

"DIRTY, VILE HALF BREED, FILTHY, EVIL WERE-WOLF! DISGRACING THE MOST NOBLE AND ANCENT HOUSE OF BLACK! SOILING THE BLACK CARPETS WITH YOUR REPULSIVE ANIMAL FEET!" The portrait of the dead Mrs. Black screamed violently at the incoming visitors to 12 Grimmauld place.

Remus Lupin being the first to enter the place stared at the portrait in awe. Mrs. Black did not look very dead at all; in all honest if Remus had not spotted the portrait he would have thought that she was standing directly in front of him yelling. Behind him he heard Mad-Eye Moody shift impatiently stepping forward and bellowing down the darkened corridor.

"SIRIUS YOUR MOTHER NEEDS SHUTTING UP!" Moody roared over the ever-insulting comments of Mrs. Black on Moody's limp, eye and general appearance soiling the "Most noble and ancient house of Black. "

In moments Remus looked at the door down the hall to see Sirius Black emerge yawning slightly. Sirius gave Remus the slight twitch of the Marauder's smile before facing the portrait.

"YOU!" At the sight of her son Mrs. Black's eyes bulged out of her head howling as he approached.

"SHAMEFUL BLOOD TRAITER! DISHONERABLE, WICKED, REVOLTING FLESH OF MY BLOOD! HOW DARE YOU BRING TAINTED SCUM INTO THE HOUSE OF BLACK-"

"THAT'S ENOUGH FROM YOU! " Sirius boomed impertinently taking the curtains hanging over her and shutting them tightly. At once silence filled the whole of Grimmauld place and Remus felt himself relax as he and Sirius embraced each other in a brotherly hug.

"There she is, dear old mum." Sirius groaned casting another look at the portrait before turning on his heel and elegantly striding own the hall.

"Come on Moony, I reckon you'll be hungry."

At that the pair made their way to the kitchen in which Molly Weasley bustled about with a teakettle in hand. As soon as she sees Remus a wide smile spreads on her tired face and she runs round the table to hug him.

"Remus! Look at you! You're peaky and look exhausted, dear Merlin! I hope Dumbledore hasn't had you running around too much!"

Remus smiled warmly his cheeks already glowing from the unending affection Molly always bathed him in.

"Molly please I am very happy to do anything that Dumbledore asks of me. "

Molly sighed placing a hand on her hip and shooting him her signature stern look of disapproval.

"That's not the point Remus; anyone of the Order would be willing to do what ever Dumbledore says. _My_ point is that you all work absolutely to hard! Arthur hasn't been sleeping well and Kingsly never has time to stay for dinner, and don't even get my started on-"

Molly stopped though for suddenly all that could be heard was a thundering crash ripping through Grimmauld place and shattering several china dishes sitting on the edge on the table. There was laughter and moments later the twins apparated in, followed by several bodies bursting through the kitchen door coughing.

"FRED, GEORGE! WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?" Molly shouted waving her wand and shutting the door on the black smoke coiling its way into the kitchen.

"Its not like we intended for it to happen." Fred started. "I mean it sort of just exploded after Tonks whacked into it." George finished.

Molly's face was as red as her hair, her eyes glowing dangerously with rage. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NO EXPLOSIVES? DO YOU TWO EVER USE YOUR DAMN HEADS? COURSE NOT! NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I EVER THOUGHT I DESERVED THIS! DEAR MERLIN PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT I'M SAYING!"

Fred opened his mouth to argue but upon the warning look from Sirius stopped instead and turned to greet Remus. "Lupin! So nice of you to join us on this lovely night."

"Oh Remus! I was wondering when you'd turn up!" George grinned taking a seat next to his brother and yawning.

Remus couldn't help but smile, the Weasley twins were highly amusing and reminded him of the old days when he, James, Sirius and Peter caused trouble, laughed and caroused late into the many long nights they had when not one of them could not sleep.

Many more bodies had taken the empty seats at the now full table; many faces were familiar to him. There was Hermione with her bushy brown hair staring the twin's irritation plain on her features, Ron who was eyeing the tray Molly now had in her hands filled with mini pastries, and Ginny next to him giggling at the one face he did not recognize.

Her hair was bubble gum pink, bright and vibrant against the dull of the kitchen, a radiant smile at her lips, and her eyes were glittering in laughter. Remus saw her and he knew that she was the one, he never believed in love at first sight but this girl she was different and so his heart beat faster, his breath hitched in his throat as he turned to Sirius.

"Whose the girl?" He whispered.

Sirius yawned as he leaned back shoveling his long black hair out of his eyes. "My cousin, N-"

"Don't you dare!" The girl snapped sharply grabbing Sirius's arm and giving him a death look to match Molly's worst.

Remus looked at her, he had seen no one but the Marauders and Severus Snape challenge Sirius the way she was. In an instant he felt respect well in him and he smirked slightly as he watched her extend her hand.

"Call me Tonks."

And so he did.

* * *

_[Author will continue story on her own profile page, please check it out for further chapters]_


	14. Victoire Weasley and Quidditch

**Fashion vs. Quidditch**

_(Victoire/Quidditch)_

_by _

_mackgirl (Gryffindor)_

I never wanted to play Quidditch. In fact, I had no interest in the sport at all for many reasons. The biggest one was how violent the game was, especially for an eight-year-old girl as I was at the time. It was dirty, I could remember seeing Aunt Ginny after being forced to go to her Quidditch matches with my parents and she would be covered in dirt, blood and sweat. At the time, I didn't even play with mud pies because I was afraid of getting dirt on the pretty clothes that my parents bought me. Overall, I was looking forward to the day when I wouldn't even have to go to a Quidditch game ever again.

At eight-years-old I knew what I wanted to do with my life, I was going to be a world famous fashion designer. My name was going to be known in both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. I could picture fashion magazines filled front to back with my designs. I could see everyone on the streets wearing my clothes. Granted, my style back then was more what my parents bought for me than what I picked out but I was determined. For an eight-year-old with fashion on her mind all the time, Quidditch with its violence, dirt, blood and sweat was the worse thing imaginable. I know surprising since everyone in my family was Quidditch obsessed, with the exception of my Aunt Hermione.

Then, one day I was at Grandmum's house. It was just Grandmum and I, and at the moment Grandmum was having a lying down and I was sitting at the kitchen table drawing pictures of dresses. I remember vividly how I was drawing a dress with big puffy sleeves with a neon green colored fabric, which was covered in bright pink polka dots. Yes, I know but I was eight.

Anyway, I was working on that dress when I heard someone in the backyard. Being the curious little snot that I was I immediately went into the backyard and found Uncle George with his Beater's bat. He was hitting some sort of ball up against a brick wall with his Beater's bat. He kept running back and forth, hitting the ball whenever it came towards him. What still amazes me to this day is that I didn't have any idea that Uncle George was doing an old Beater's training exercise. I thought he had invented a new game. I didn't even know he was using a Beater's bat until weeks later.

It was fascinating, I stood there watching until Uncle George finally missed a ball causing it to sail pass him. Uncle George let out a curse, causing me to giggle and alerting Uncle George to the fact that I was standing there watching him.

Uncle George sat the bat down and walked over towards me, wiping his forehead as he did so. "What are you doing here Victoire?"

I just gawked at Uncle George ignoring his question, "Did you just invent that game?"

Uncle George glanced between the brick wall and me before he grinned, "Do you want to be the first person I teach it to?"

What kind of a question was that? Of course, I wanted to be the first person to learn Uncle George's new game. I could wait to brag about it to Teddy the next time I saw him. I started to jump up and down excitedly as Uncle George told me to wait outside while he went and got another bat for me to use. He left me the bat that he had been using, and told me to practice swinging the bat at an imaginary ball while he was gone, and I did so without asking any questions.

The rest of the afternoon Uncle George and I spent it taking turns hitting that ball up against the brick wall with our bats. Years later Uncle George admitted to me that he kept waiting for me to figure out that I was learning how to play the Beater's position in Quidditch and would freak out. I never figured it out however; instead, I was concentrating so hard on hitting that ball with the bat making it bounce off the wall. I was so excited that Uncle George was teaching me his "new" game before anyone else learned it that it didn't even dawn on me that he might have been teasing me.

By the time, Grandmum stuck her head outside and asked Uncle George if he was staying for dinner, I was in love. The game was exciting as I made the bat connect with the ball. It was thrilling when I had to duck at the last second because I didn't make the connection and the ball was flying towards my face. It was my new favorite game, and I didn't even mind the sweat as much as I thought I would and remember thinking that at least there was no dirt or blood involved.

That evening during dinner, I made Uncle George promise to come back over tomorrow afternoon so we could play his "new" game again. Uncle George not only promised, but also agreed to leave the brick wall up and to leave one of the bats and the ball with me so I could play in the morning.

That was the beginning of my love for Quidditch.


	15. Scorpius Malfoy and Lily Potter

**Like a Fairy Tale**

_(Scorpius Malfoy/Lily Potter)_

_by_

_mysticfireflower (Gryffindor)_

At the beginning, he only thought of her as his best friend's sister. If you told him that he would see her in a different light at that time, he might have told you to get your head check.

* * *

"Scorpius, wait up." cried Albus.

Why now at the time he wanted to not to be seen from his best friend because of the rumors that started last night. The whole school was talking about him and Lily. He look over to where Albus was staying and asked "What's up?"

"I'm good. Wanted to talk to you. What are you doing?" asked Albus.

"Not much. I might go to the library and work on some of my homework there.'' I said.

"I heard some rumors and was wondering if they where true or not." he said while looking at me.

I looked at him and said "They are."

* * *

Couple months after the talking with Albus, I finally had the courage to asked her out and she said yes.

I know, I loved because I always wanted to see her smile and I would feel butterflies in my stomach.

* * *

Two years after she graduated from Hogwarts, I asked her to marry me.

Some people said they wedding was the wedding of the year but they didn't care because they had each other. They also they wedding was a fairy tale came to live. We were married on a warm summer's day in July. The weather was perfect, no clouds in sight. He had to agree with them about the fairy tale part because he married his dream girl.

* * *

I know she loved me to because the way she looked at me when she saw me.

It was really like a fairy tale because we live happily ever after.


	16. Voldemort and Bellatrix Black

**Darkness Becomes Her**

_(Voldemort/Bellatrix Black)_

_by_

_Ariana Ethraitius_

Bellatrix stood by the fire and the Dark Lord gazed at her with admiration. He felt something stir inside himself as he looked at the  
face of this young beauty who stood in front of him. Bellatrix curtsied to him and he nodded at the young woman.

"Will you swear to be loyal to me?" he asked and then as an afterthought he added with a sly smile "and will you love no other but me?"

"Love, what do I know about love?" Bellatrix asked quietly as the fire crackled in the background. "If that is what you wish, then I will serve and love you faithfully, my Lord. You and no other…"

These words made him want to put his arms around her and have her; have her in ways he dare not think about… She was beautiful; strong-willedand she had a fiery temper.

Voldemort smiled. His woman would do great things. She would stand athis side and she would be great like he was himself.

O0o0o

Voldemort lay in the bed that night in his room next to hers. He stood up; unable to sleep and he silently crept to her bedroom door. The door was ajar and he saw her sitting up in bed, reading a thick book about the Dark Arts. It was a book he had given her that very evening after dinner before her parents had come back from their trip out to dinner alone, as husband and wife.

She was reading and she did not (for that reason) notice him. He stood just outside her room, watching her as the moonlight slanted across her face.

Her thick dark hair fell across her shoulders and her eyes glittered with interest as she read the pages. Yes, he thought to himself as he  
stood, gazing hungrily down at her as she read, Lord Voldemort was falling for Bellatrix Black. Lord Voldemort knew that the Death Eaters now had their Queen. He smiled to himself as he walked back to his room and quietly closed the door behind him.

Voldemort sighed. It was the beginning of love, these feelings he was feeling for that captivating, power hungry woman in the room next to his own. She was young, but already her power was strong. Her power rivalled that of the few bright people whom he had met in the Ministry over the years… With his help and support, Bella, his dear beautiful Bellatrix would be the Dark Queen he desired.


	17. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter

**Taking Chances**

_(Hermione Granger/Harry Potter)_

_by _

_Sara Winters (Ravenclaw)_

It could never happen.

As surely as she knew he would think she had gone mad if she suggested it, Hermione Granger knew there was no chance she'd have anything more than friendship with Harry Potter. She was, in a word, the closest thing he had to a sister. And it was killing her. Worse, she didn't feel there was anything she could do about it. After the year he'd had—being vilified by the Ministry, losing his godfather, learning of the prophecy—what Harry needed more than anything was an understanding and supportive friend. Even if he wasn't always receptive, he knew he could always come to her for advice, to vent, or just to escape from the madness of the rest of the school. And he would always need that from Hermione. More than he'd ever need her for anything else.

Besides all that, she wasn't his type. Harry was drawn to girls more outgoing than she, athletic natural beauties who needed to beat admirers off with a stick. Really, there was just Cho Hermione had to confirm these ideas. Of course, he had been looking at Ginny strangely recently and she too fit the description. Harry probably didn't think anyone had noticed, he might not even be sure why himself, but when Ron's sister was around Hermione watched his attention shift as if drawn to the redhead like a magnet. He changed when he was around Ginny, laughing at jokes he normally didn't think were funny and showing interest in conversations he would've tuned out of months before. Harry had even laughed at something Ginny had said about her, a gesture that had made Hermione's breath catch and her heart give a painful lurch.

That was when she knew. Hermione knew she couldn't ignore these new feelings. She knew there was no way Harry could return them. She knew watching him try to get closer to Ginny, if that's where it was headed, would slowly drive her around the bend. And there was nothing she could do about any of it.

A pair of pale fingers snapped in front of her face and Hermione jumped, nearly knocking her stack of library books from the table. She scrambled to steady them. "Harry! What is wrong with you?" She glanced around the corner of the library she'd been hiding in. No one was around to see her fumbling.

"With me?" He pulled out the seat next to hers and planted himself in the chair. "I've been calling you for a couple of minutes. I thought someone had hexed you, the way you were staring off."

Hermione frowned, inwardly cursing the warmth she could feel flooding her face. "I was just thinking about something." She glanced at the book in front of her. "I have an Arithmancy essay due tomorrow and I really should go over it again."

Harry glanced from the stack of books in front of her to the long sheet of parchment protruding from Hermione's bag on the other side of the table. Even by her standards, the four feet of parchment covered in her tiny handwriting was a bit excessive, but she knew Professor Vector had come to expect a certain standard from her favorite student. Whatever was or wasn't going on between her and Harry, Hermione was not about to let her marks suffer.

"Hermione? You're doing it again." She turned back to Harry. There was a crease in the center of his forehead, bending the lightning bolt scar, and small wrinkles around his mouth as he frowned. Bright green eyes stared into hers. "I want to talk to you about what's going on with Malfoy."

Hermione blinked hard and sighed. She looked away from Harry's face and down at her hands on the table. "I still don't think there's much to be suspicious of, Harry."

"So you think what happened in Diagon Alley wasn't a big deal. Or the way he's been sneaking around the school." His voice was impatient, verging on the hysterics that she knew would precede an outburst of temper.

"I think…we don't know enough to say for sure either way," Hermione said slowly. She listened to the way Harry sucked air through his teeth before continuing. "I know you're worried that Malfoy's going to try something—"

"You said yourself that Voldemort could use anyone to try to get to me," Harry said. "It would be easy to get someone who hates me to go along with his plans."

Hermione looked up. Though he sounded almost angry, she read Harry's expression as frustration with her and Ron and perhaps a small amount of fear. All of which was understandable. That still did not give any of them license to go off accusing Malfoy without a solid reason. The last time she'd gone along with Harry when he'd had nothing to follow but his instincts, they'd all gotten hurt and his godfather had ended up dead. Hermione knew Harry hadn't forgiven himself for any of the events of that night, but someone had to stop him before he got himself into a similar situation. If this was another trap, or nothing at all, there was no harm in proceeding cautiously.

"You don't have to look at me like that," Harry said, interrupting her thoughts. "I'm not going to get anyone else hurt."

Hermione put her hand over his on the table. "What happened wasn't your fault, you know that. But I don't want _you_ to get hurt. If Malfoy really is up to something and you confront him about it, he could come after you. And what are you going to say to Dumbledore? Even he won't do anything without proof."

"Which is why I have to find out where Malfoy is sneaking off to, so I can get proof. I need you to believe me."

"I do," Hermione assured him quickly. She believed in him more than she was comfortable saying. She squeezed his hand. "I believe that you're worried and you feel the reason is real. And I want to help. Just—"

"Be careful," he finished for her, nodding. "I know." Of course he did. Her warnings hadn't changed over the years. Harry stared into her eyes for a long moment and Hermione felt herself growing nervous. She pulled her hand away from him and into her lap. "Can I count on you to help me?"

"I'll do whatever you need," Hermione said. She began to chastise herself for how that must have sounded before Harry nodded again and stood. Before Hermione could say anything else, Harry had turned and left the library as abruptly as he'd come. She would give him whatever he needed from her, whatever the cost to her personally. Harry was important to the entire Wizarding World, and his well-being was more important than any one girl's crush. She just had to convince her heart of that.

* * *

It wasn't a crush, not in the normal sense. More like misplaced feelings. Hermione had become so used to worrying over Harry that her mind fooled itself into feeling like the intensity of her emotions meant more than it did. That had to be the case. Otherwise she had no way to explain the way her heart skipped a beat every time he told her he'd had a near run-in with Malfoy or the brief, sharp pain in her chest when he smiled at Ginny in the Great Hall.

Truthfully, she had no idea what she felt. It was either very wrong feelings for her best friend or the warning signs of a heart attack. It didn't help matters when Ron asked about the change in her mood. Harry had just flashed a smile down the table at some joke Ginny had made; Hermione responded by staring down at her plate, hoping to forget the sudden sharp pang of jealousy in the kippers and eggs growing cold in front of her. She swirled her fork through the food, frowning when Ron repeated his question.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "Leave it alone."

Ron looked as if he might add something when Harry turned his attention back to the two of them. "What was that?"

"Hermione—"

"Nothing," she interrupted. She glanced down the table. Ginny was leaning on Dean's arm and laughing. "Tell me what happened after Quidditch practice last night." Hermione lowered her voice. She dropped her fork and leaned over the table. "You went sneaking off and skipped dinner. And now you've got that bruise," she said, pointing to the small purple mark on Harry's collarbone.

"I followed him again," Harry whispered. "I wasn't fast enough. I lost him somewhere between the fourth and fifth floors. I started searching and by the time I got to the seventh floor, I ran into Crabbe. That's how I got this," he said, rubbing at the spot on his neck. "You know what this means, right?"

"That you shouldn't be following Malfoy at night by yourself?" Hermione asked.

"That he's definitely hiding something and his friends are helping him," Harry said.

"I still think you should be careful, Harry," Hermione said. She placed her hand over his wrist on the table, holding on until he looked at her. "At least tell Dumbledore you suspect him so you won't have to follow him yourself."

"Didn't you say Dumbledore won't believe me without proof?"

She nodded. "But he'll at least be able to find out things you won't, and you won't be in danger."

"How could I be in danger from Malfoy if he's got nothing to hide?"

Harry had her there. She just couldn't stand the thought of Draco Malfoy catching Harry sneaking around a dark hallway one night. It was bad enough he'd broken Harry's nose on the Hogwarts Express, she didn't want to imagine what he might do if he really was up to something and he thought Harry was on to him. Of course, Harry could defend himself. Hermione didn't want him to be put in the position where he had to. This was another situation that could end with the lot of them in the hospital or worse.

"I just think—"

"I should think about what I'm doing before I do it and be careful," he said, echoing her earlier warnings. Sometimes Hermione wondered if he got as sick of hearing her repeat them as she did of saying it. Still, she would never forget herself if she didn't try to help and something happened.

"Please," Hermione added. "I worry about you."

"You don't have to," Harry said. The bell for first class rang. He smiled at his friends. "I'll see you at morning break."

* * *

She had to stop obsessing over him. Well, maybe not so much Harry as the idea that she could have fallen for him. That was the problem with these things. Once Hermione got an idea into her head, she couldn't stop thinking about it until she'd reached a satisfactory resolution. As if this could ever come to that. Thankfully, her friendship with Harry had long since taught her the ability to keep secrets—especially the kind that threatened to expose vulnerability. This particular weakness was something she had to keep to herself at all costs.

Now, rarely a day passed when she didn't find herself constantly distracted by thoughts of him: there was worry, longing and a sudden warmth she was finding it increasingly difficult to hide when he was around. And now he wanted her to help him follow Draco. Harry had said it was because she was concerned and he knew reinforcements could be useful. Hermione suspected he invited her along because he wanted to prove to her—in a way she couldn't refute—that he was right to be suspicious all along. Hermione didn't know what was worse, wanting Harry to be wrong in order to keep him safe or wanting him to be right so she could help him root out any possible threat. Because that's who she was at her best: the voice of reason who would always work to keep him safe. Nothing more than a friend.

"This is stupid," she said. Hermione frowned at her reflection. Her skin was sallow in the dim bathroom light. "I can't think about him like this. I can't let this distract me anymore." She thought of the E she'd gotten on her last exam. Just short of what she needed to be, exactly how Harry would see her if she told him about her crazy feelings. "I have to stop this. Now."

"Stop what?"

Hermione turned swiftly. She felt the sudden tension in her shoulders ease as Luna entered the bathroom, a distant expression in her clear blue eyes. "Nothing," Hermione answered. "I don't feel well."

"Maybe there's something going around then," the blonde said. She stepped up to the bank of sinks.

"What do you mean?"

"The way Harry was carrying on earlier, I thought something was terribly wrong." Luna leaned forward and began stroking her long hair as she stared at her reflection. Butterfly barrettes in her hair began fluttering as she disturbed them.

Hermione grabbed her arm and turned the other girl to face her. "Something happened to Harry and you just left him?"

Luna shook off her arm absently. "I called into the Prefects' bathroom and he shouted back that he had it under control." She shrugged. "If you're worried, I suppose you could check on—"

The rest of what Luna said was lost to Hermione as she tore out of the bathroom at top speed. She raced up the stairs two at a time, finally jumping to the next landing when she grew impatient waiting for the stairs to move into place. As she neared the bathroom on the fifth floor, the sound of laughter carrying down the hall sent a chill down her back. She slowed to a brisk walk, wary now of a sharp cramp burning hot into her right side.

"You're so pathetic when you're like this," a voice said.

Draco. Hermione placed a hand to her ribcage and limped forward, struggling to catch her breath. She paused outside the door. Harry wasn't answering. Shouting the password, Hermione pushed the door open and ran forward. Draco stood in front of the large tub, his back to the door. Just past him, she could see Harry half floating on the water. Dark ribbons of red swirled through the water around his head.

Without thinking, she raised her wand. "Confrigo!" The spell glanced off of the back of Draco's head. Blood burst out of a wound just above his neck. He began to fall forward. Hermione caught him with a Levitation Charm and threw him out of her way. Running to the side of the tub, she grabbed Harry's legs and pulled him from the water. She turned him onto his back.

"Harry!" He stared up; his expression was blank, as if he was staring straight through her. "Shit. What—?" Hermione turned and snatched Draco's wand from his hand. "Rennervate!" Harry immediately coughed and shook as the spell wore off. When he began breathing steadily, Hermione dropped the other wand and put her arms around him. His wet clothes soaked the front of her robes, but Hermione didn't notice. She ran one hand frantically over Harry's face and neck, searching for the source of the blood in the water. "Are you all right? Where did he get you?"

"Just a cut," he said, lifting his left arm. The sleeve of his robes were torn in several places. He pushed his glasses into place. "I'm fine." Harry coughed then cleared his throat. "Glad you got that bastard before he killed me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she turned to glance at the boy behind her. "He's lucky my aim was off or I would've done him in myself." She turned back to Harry. "I can't believe I've been so bloody stupid about this. After all the things he's done over the years, I should've known you were right that he might come after you again."

"Hermione."

"I should've listened to you," she continued. "I didn't want to. I couldn't believe Voldemort would actually recruit someone our age to do his dirty work for him. Though, after what Umbridge put us through last year and all those Death Eaters being captured, I should've known not to expect anything as unbelievable as a quiet school year. I mean, when have we ever had one of those?"

"Hermione."

The girl put one hand to her face as tears began to fall. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry I didn't try to help you all this time. I just wanted to keep you safe. I couldn't stand the idea that you'd get hurt again. And to think that Draco nearly killed you—" At that thought, Hermione took Harry in her arms again and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. Just as abruptly, she pulled away, wiping at the tears streaming down her face with one sleeve of her robes. She blushed bright scarlet. "I'm sorry. I never should have...I didn't meant to do that," she whispered.

"I get the feeling that's not true," Harry said after a moment. He pushed himself into a sitting position. "For weeks you've been acting...strange."

_Strange? Right. That was the nice way of saying my best friend has turned into an emotional mess and now she's kissed me. If I thought it wasn't possible for an awkward situation to become even more difficult, I was wrong. Again. In the worse way._

"I know and...it's nothing. I've just been feeling out of sorts." Hermione stared down at her hands. "It's just stress. Now that we've got the whole situation with him sorted," she said, waving at the unconscious boy behind her, "I'm sure I can return to normal."

"It started before we saw him in Diagon Alley," Harry said. "All summer you've been different." He grabbed one of her Hermione's hands. "Every time you look at me, it's like you're seeing another person. If what happened at the Ministry bothered you that much—"

"It's not that," Hermione said. She looked up. When she looked into Harry's eyes, her breath caught. "Maybe it did start at the end of term. Or before then. Or...I don't know! I've just been so worried about you and I've been driving myself crazy thinking about you."

"Thinking about me what?"

Hermione's eyes dropped again. To their clasped hands. "That's it. Just about you. In a way that is decidedly more than friendly. And you don't have to say anything. I know you don't want anything like that with me. You've never looked at me that way and why would I expect you to? I'm just your brainy friend with the big mouth and bigger hair and I have no idea why my emotions have gotten so out of control around you these past weeks, but I know it has to stop. Maybe telling you will finally end it," she added quietly.

"You've been feeling this way for a while and you never said anything to me? Hermione, we could have talked about it."

The gentle tone in his voice was nearly her undoing. _Fantastic. He's going to tell me what a "nice girl" I am just before I die of embarrassment. As if I don't have reason enough to wish for a hole to open up in the floor and swallow me._

"The last thing we needed to do was talk about this. I've gone completely mental and I don't think it would help the situation to describe how I've lost my mind in detail." She tried to pull her hand from Harry's; he held hers tighter. "You're my best friend and I've always thought I could tell you just about anything. Except this. I didn't want your pity, knowing I'm just one of the many girls who sees you this way. You know me better than that. You know I'm not shallow like some of them. So I didn't say anything. I didn't tell Ginny or anyone because I didn't know how they'd react. Living with this secret has been a nightmare. I'm losing sleep. I can't study. I can barely get through a couple of classes without wishing I could just turn this feeling off and get back to normal." Hermione sighed.

"I feel like I've been lying to you, to all of you. The whole thing's been making me terribly anxious. It's been nearly unbearable," Hermione finished in a rush. There was a long pause. "Say something."

"So...the thought of having feelings for me has been causing you nearly unbearable agony?"

"Yes, that's why..._no_." Hermione looked up at Harry; he was grinning. "Shut up. That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I don't know, Hermione." Harry shrugged. "The way you say it, we'd be better off staying away from each other altogether. You know, in the interest of easing your suffering."

She sighed and a small smile tilted her lips. "I'm sure there are other methods of dealing with these kinds of things. For instance, we could try—"

"Not thinking about it so much," Harry put in. "You know, even if your feelings about me have changed, I'd never think of you as just like those other girls. All they see is the scar, the fame, the money...and now they see the hero from the Department of Mysteries. They don't see _me_. Most of them never will. You've always seen more to me than that. Just as I see more in you than a witch with big hair and her nose stuck in a book."

"Well, thanks," Hermione whispered. "That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

"You know what I mean. The reason we became such good friends is because there's more to both of us than the average person sees on the surface. And we get that about each other. We understand a lot that other people will never know." Harry paused. "I wish you'd trusted me enough to say something sooner, even if you were unsure of your feelings," he said, cutting Hermione off before she could interrupt. "I would never want to say something to hurt you, not on purpose."

"I know you'd never hurt me on purpose, but that doesn't mean it won't still hurt, hearing no from you," Hermione said. "I remember how everyone reacted to those stupid Rita Skeeter articles fourth year. You never wanted anyone to believe there was anything between us then. I can't imagine much has changed since."

"Hermione, you have to stop selling yourself short before I can even tell you what I think." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sure you've thought about this from every angle, but I can tell you something you probably never considered. You're one of the closest people in my life. Yes, you're like family, but a lot of the time it's more than that. You get me, sometimes more than I like to admit. I can't find that with just any girl. And yes, the idea of us becoming a couple is strange, but that doesn't mean it could never happen. Stranger things have happened."

One of those strange things was definitely the way he was looking at her now.

_Breathe_.

"I think the idea of _us_ could grow on me," Harry whispered. "It's like a natural next step, from best friends to something better."

Hermione scrambled for something to say, lost for words for the first time she could remember. Finally, she was able to gather her thoughts. "I don't...but what if something goes wrong? What if—?"

"Shh. Don't worry about the what ifs." Harry leaned closer to her until their faces were inches apart. "If we go in without a plan, we'll have to rely on our instincts." His hand was tight on hers again; his fingers burned an imprint deep into her skin. "If I remember accurately, you have fantastic instincts."

Instinct. That was what kept her from freezing when Harry closed the distance between them. It made her react when his lips touched hers tentatively, feeling for the moment when this thing between them would become more than just a hazy idea and begin to grow into something beautiful. And instincts would serve her well when the time came to make a choice between doing what was safe and easy and taking a chance. Safe had never gotten Hermione too far from the library. Taking this chance would change her world.


	18. Albus Potter and Rose Weasley

**Before there was Mercury: Growing Up Weasley (and Potter)**

_(Albus Potter/Rose Weasley)_

_by _

_respitechristopher (Ravenclaw)_

From about the moment we were born, Rose and I were inseparable. Blame it on being born just days apart, blame it on our parents being each other's godparents; whatever, from the time we were put in the same crib at Grandma Weasley's, we were each other's closest friends.

They tell us we started talking the same day. My first word, apparently, was "broom," having seen Mum flying about in a Prophet photograph. Uncle Charlie immediately thought this meant I'd be the next in a line of great Potter Quidditch players at Hogwarts. And I suppose if I were that sort of person, I'd laugh about that more at family gatherings. Rose's first word was "no," then her next word was "green," referring to Mum's Holyhead Harpies kit. We taught each other to read, we helped each other learn to walk. Rose, actually, was slated to go to Muggle primary school near her house when she turned five, but she and I raised such a commotion about being separated that Aunt Hermione finally relented. So we helped each other through Madam Tonks's pre-Hogwarts schooling, as well.

Being related to Molly Weasley means one thing, having a very large, very tightly knit family. Growing up in such a family, one doesn't know any other way of relating to relatives, so when I got to Hogwarts, it wa a bit of a shock to hear that some people had only two or three cousins, and that they were in far-flung places like Queensland or British Columbia. But for us Weasleys and Potters, everyone was a floo call away, an apparition away, or (once they learnt how) a quick drive. Grandma Weasley was – and is – Matriarch par excellence. She has clocks for each of her children's families (Uncle Charlie is still attached to Grandma and Grandpa's. I think Grandma's still holding out hope that her 50-something year old divorcé son will finally settle down). On each of these clocks is an approximate location and condition of each child, child-in-law, grandchild and (now that Victoire and her partner have a little one) great-grandchild. And, should one of these hands move unexpectedly, one could expect a floo-call. Once could expect an "invitation" to tea at the Burrow. And one could expect to be made a topic of discussion at the Weasley (and Potter) Sunday Family Dinner. And one Sunday, when Rose and I were nine, we became that topic.

Sunday, 11 October, 2015. Dad had only been Head Auror for seven years. Reconstruction was over and done with, and any former Death Eaters had long since repented and paid their debt to society. There was no longer a need for groups like The Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore's Army, and those names had long since been relegated to lines and dates in history books. I suppose it was a combination of a need to maintain relevance and an accident of the calendar that convinced Mum, Dad, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron to hold a party for the 20th anniversary of the founding of Dumbledore's Army. The Ministry Ballroom was rented out for the occasion, the press, although not invited inside, were camped out in front, hoping to chronicle as much as they could. Mum and Aunt Hermione had taken the five of us children out shopping for new outfits, and dear old Madam Malkin had returned the favour by setting us up with the most hideous billowing robes you've ever seen. Now, at nine years old, I didn't know much about fashion, but I sure knew ugly. And being dressed up like an emerald-green bat was just embarrassing. Mum, of course, thought the outfit was perfectly acceptable, if a little pedestrian, so she did nothing to help my cause. I begged and pleaded not to have to appear in public like that up until the last moments before we left, but my pleadings fell on deaf ears, so off we went.

I thanked Merlin and Morgana quite loudly when we got to the Ministry that we hadn't gone through the front door past the photographers, which earned me an admonition from Mum that I was to be on my best behaviour, and she wasn't going to be embarrassed by my "antics" in front of her friends. James and Lily got quite a chuckle out of this, but I held my tongue, not wanting to be any more conspicuous than necessary.

Of course, when one looks like a miniature Harry Potter, being inconspicuous really isn't an option when you're nine and don't have a wand. I knew I was in for a long evening when Mr. Thomas's date, a woman I'd never met before, pinched my cheek and told me how much I looked like my father at my age. Now, I know full well that Dad hadn't met anyone Magical until he was eleven, so how this woman knew that was beyond me. Yet before I had a chance to ask, Mr Thomas tousled my hair and remarked on how much I'd grown since he'd seen me last. When I mentioned that I'd been six the last time he'd seen me, he chuckled and went on his way.

After an agonizing 20 minutes or so being cooed over, offered high-fives, having strange women kiss me and strange men tell me things like "there's a good lad," Rose and the rest of her family finally made an entrance. I vigorously waved her over to my back corner table as soon as I saw her.

"Oh thank Merlin," I said. "Rosie, it's been murder, honestly. You'd think they'd never seen a child before."

Rose smiled wickedly. "Oh, well you do look like the cutest little version of Harry Potter I've ever seen, Al. And that green just brings out your –"

"So. Not. Helping," I growled. Rose had a seat and looked at me, expectingly.

"Well?" she said. "You brought the snap cards, right?" I simply cast my eyes downward, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

"Merlin's lacy pants, you're not serious, are you?" Rose asked, fully knowing the answer to her own question. "What on earth are we expected to do here, then? Mingle with these people?"

"Rosie, please. Just – just don't. I'm sitting here looking like a fashion advertisement from 1998, I've been fussed and cooed over for 20 minutes, and bloody James and Lily haven't stopped being precious all night – look at them. I swear; Lily hasn't stopped giggling since we got here. I'm sorry I forgot the cards; I was trying to convince Mum to let me wear anything else up until the last moment. It's been hard enough tonight, honestly. Maybe we can –"

"Rosie, there you are," Aunt Hermione interrupted, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. "Oh, and Al, too. There's someone I want you to meet."

We were dragged over to meet Cho Chang, who sniffled and dabbed her eyes for three minutes, rather than talk. Next came Susan Bones, who managed to simultaneously tousle my hair and pinch my cheeks, for which I'd certainly have given extra credit, had I not been mortified past all sense of irony. Then we were dragged over to meet Michael Corner and Daphne Greengrass, who I'd later know as Scorpius's Uncle Michael and Aunt Daphne. They, at least, were human to us, politely shaking our hands and making small talk with Aunt Hermione so we could escape.

"Good lord, Al," Rose exclaimed in a loud whisper as soon as we were back to our table. "You've put up with that all evening?"

"That actually wasn't bad. I thought Mrs Finnegan was going to rip my cheek right off of my face she pinched it so hard. And Quidditch. They all want to talk about the stupid Quidditch. How much longer do we have, Rosie?"

Rose pointed to a very large clock that was built into the wall over the entranceway. It said 8:45. We were stuck there for another hour and forty-five minutes. It was plain to both of us that we weren't going to survive the evening. We sat in a doomed silence for a moment or two before Rose piped up.

"Let's get them."

"What?" I asked. "You're mad, Rosie."

"No, let's just get them, Al. We know how to use the bloody Floo; we'll just pop over there and pop right back. No one will notice we've left. Or would you rather sit here and dodge old people all night?"

She did have a point. I looked around; we were about five metres from the exit to the VIP Floo connection. James and Lily were being passed about from Hero to bloody Hero, and Mum and Dad were deep in conversation with Minister Shacklebolt, Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron, with Hugo in tow. Uncle George and Aunt Angelina were at a table with several people I didn't recognise, and none of the rest of our family were at the event. We were in the clear.

I grabbed Rose's hand. "Right. Let's be quick about it, then."

We made an inconspicuous dash for it, casually walking to the rear of the ballroom. We walked upstairs to the VIP floo entrance, I tossed some powder into the fireplace and called out "Headquarters". I used Dad's password "Expelliarmus" when it was asked for. Nothing – apparently the wards on the floo were only keyed to adults. Rose had the same results trying to access her house. I grabbed some more floo powder and threw it into the fireplace.

"Diagon Alley," I called, and the fireplace lit up a brilliant green. Rose had an incredulous look on her face.

"You're mad," she said, and I don't think she thought she was exaggerating.

"Come on, Zonko's is open late, Aunt Hannah and Uncle Neville are at the party, and we'll be in and out. Plus, I have a couple of galleons on me just for situations like this."

"You mean the five galleons in your boot? That's for emergencies, Albus Potter."

"Precisely. Let's go." I grabbed Rose's hand, and we ducked through the floo, exiting into the back room of the Leaky Cauldron.

All in all, the mission went off smashingly, which should have been my first clue that something was amiss. We walked to Zonko's, Mr Zonko wished us good evening as he sold us the cards, and the floo took us right back to the Ministry, where we slipped back in, seemingly unnoticed. By 9:15 we were playing Exploding Snap on a table in the back, with only a brief "Oh, that's where you two are" from Mum. Rose won nine out of the thirteen hands we played before Mum and Aunt Hermione shuffled us back to our respective homes.

The next day I heard Grandma's voice in the floo; and a rather high-pitched exchange between her and Mum. By the time Mum announced that she was heading over to The Burrow for tea, I knew there had been a flaw in the plan. Grandma had been watching her clocks again. Mum didn't return quietly.

"Albus!" she hollered up the stairs. "Albus _Severus_ Potter, you _will_ get your arse down here this instant!"

I thought it best to feign ignorance and nonchalance, so I gracefully walked down the three flights of stairs.

"Yes, Mum?" I asked. "What can I do for you?" In retrospect, the cool demeanour was probably a misstep on my part.

"Don't you dare take that sarcastic tone with me, young man!" she replied, slamming her hand on the dining room table for emphasis. "You know full well what you did!" Mum stopped for a moment to collect herself.

"Diagon Alley. You and Rosie went, completely unaccompanied, to bloody Diagon Alley. What in the Nine Hells could have possibly convinced you this was a good idea?"

"Well, I'd left the –"

"I don't want to hear it. You had no business leaving the party, going out by yourselves – it was 9:00 at night, for Merlin's sake."

"But nothing –"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!"

It was all I could do not to break down into tears in front of her. She sent me back to my room to consider my behaviour, and assured me that Dad would hear about this straightaway. I slowly climbed the stairs, thoroughly chastened, and more than a little shocked. Mum raised her voice at us all the time; mostly to be heard across a room full of family and/or friends, or because she didn't feel like conjuring a bloody Patronus every time she wanted to speak with us up or down several flights of stairs. But she never screamed like that, which was disconcerting. To make matters worse, James and Lily had been gleefully listening in on the proceedings.

"Ooh," James started. "Look who's in trouble now! Little Albie's got Mum all riled up. Betcha won't get any supper! Betcha won't get any pudding!"

"Bugger off!" I grumbled. James only grinned in response.

"Mum! Albus told me to bugger off!" he shouted down the stairs.

"James, leave your brother alone! He has enough trouble already without you making more. And Albus, mind your language!"

I slunk into my room, closed the door, and waited for Dad to come home. Dad wasn't screechy; rather, he had this quiet air of disapproval about him that just made you want to hide under the covers for a decade or three. He simply told me that he was very disappointed, and that I wasn't to come downstairs until supper, by which time a suitable punishment will have been determined. This punishment turned out to be an apology to Grandma for worrying her, and a week without pudding. I was more than a little irked that James's prophecy had turned out to be correct.

Rose hadn't gotten off much lighter, to be honest. In addition to her apology to Grandma, she was made to write 20 cm on the "Snatchers" of the Second War - Rose wasn't much for sweets, so no pudding with dinner was no problem for her. We commiserated during breaks at Madame Tonks's, and she was kind enough to let me have her biscuits at lunchtime, which I saved until after supper and ate clandestinely in my room. I, in turn, wrote some family anecdotes I remembered for her report. It was rough going for a pair of nine-year-olds, but we managed well enough.

The worst of it didn't come until the following Sunday; one week after our adventure to Zonko's. As there was no grand event that day fêting our parents' actions in the Second War, Sunday meant dinner at The Burrow. To be honest, I didn't think much of it at the time; it was to be a Sunday Dinner like so many others. We'd go, sit in the garden while the others played Quidditch, play a few score hands of Snap, and then there would be dinner. We'd feign interest in stories of dead uncles and feats of derring-do, roll our eyes at tales of zany pranks gone awry, and pretend we didn't know the words to the post-war songs that were popular seven years before we were born. Somewhere in there we'd get up, go into the sitting room, and resume our epic Exploding Snap Battle. Rose would win, and we'd start wandering towards our parents, conspicuously tired.

I knew this Sunday was going to be a little different when James, Freddy and Roxie tried to engage Rose and I about our excursion. Apparently, word of our exploits had made its way through the entire family, and it was of such importance that it got between James and a Quaffle. James had a wonderful time describing just how mad Mum had gotten, and the glorious pastries he'd had access to after supper over the past week. I rolled my eyes at the nonsense, but that just seemed to egg him on. So Rose and I went inside to play our Snap game peacefully, sitting on the floor by our uncles and Grandpa.

Uncle Charlie asked if we wouldn't rather be playing outside with our cousins. I thought it would be poor form to reply that I'd just as soon not be anywhere near those idiots, but I didn't have to, thanks to Uncle Ron.

"Actually, this might be good. We might want to keep these two where we can see them," was how he started.

"Right. A little young to start with the adventuring, aren't they?" Grandpa weighed in. "You lot weren't causing trouble like that until you'd hit Hogwarts." Ugh. More odious comparisons.

"Did they really manage to get to Diagon Alley all by themselves?" asked Uncle George. "Harry, you probably could have picked up some floo-travel pointers from these two."

"Of course, the brainy one over there probably taught your boy how it's done, what?" asked Uncle Bill, slapping Dad's shoulder roughly.

"Enough!" Rose said, not quite shouting, but certainly loud enough to make herself heard. "We're right here, you know."And Rose grabbed my hand and led me to the front yard to continue our game.

Rose had only beaten me another eight times when we were all called to wash up for dinner. We queued up with our cousins at the scullery (with no small amount of pushing and shoving), sat down and tucked in. No one could prepare a meal for twenty like Molly Weasley. Of course, no one could open up a conversation with a loaded question like Molly Weasley, either.

"So, did you children enjoy the party last week?"

There were a few snickers from James and the twins, but mostly we just nodded yes and continued to attack the roast beef as if it had wronged us in a previous life. Grandma was unsatisfied, of course, and continued on with her questioning.

"What about you, Rosie? Did you have a good time?"

"It was fun, I guess," Rose replied, remembering to swallow before speaking.

"And what about your little excursion? Was that fun, too?"

"Mum, leave it be," pleaded Mum, but that just got things started.

"I think I'd like to hear the answer to this, Ginny," Grandma pressed. "These two had me worried half to death, and I'd like to know if it was worth it."

"Gin's right, Mum. Leave 'em be," offered Uncle Charlie. I started to have some hope for this afternoon after all, until he continued speaking. "Their parents were up to no good at their age, too, and look at what that's brought us."

"Right," said Uncle George. "All the big talk at the DA reunion; they probably just wanted to show there's a bit of the old adventure in the next generation, too. Couple of Gryffindors like that; I wouldn't expect anything less."

I wanted to be calmer about this, really. But it's tough to put forth an air of nonchalance when one is pinching the bridge of one's nose, shaking one's head. Dad looked at me pointedly.

"Yes, son? Something you wanted to say?"

"Snap cards," I grumbled.

"Come again?"

"Snap cards. Albus had left his bloody snap cards at home, so he and I went to get them. Couldn't get through the floo to our house, couldn't get through at his, so we went to Zonko's to pick up a new deck. That's all. It wasn't an adventure, it was an errand."

"Rosie, what have I told you about your language?" Aunt Hermione interrupted.

Uncle Percy was shocked. "Wait. There were 20-some living, breathing members of Dumbledore's Army right there in one place, and you would have rather played Exploding Snap?"

"Don't we get enough of that Second War stuff here, though?" I asked, in what would be a defining moment in my young life. "Honestly, any of those stories I hadn't heard already, it's only because I'd forgotten them in place of something relevant."

I'd never heard The Burrow quite so quiet, and I had a sneaking suspicion I was in leagues over my head, but, they say 'in for a knut, in for a galleon,' so I kept going.

"You dress me up in robes ten years out of fashion, send me to this place where everyone thinks they know me because I look like Dad, force me to make small talk with people who just want to pinch my cheek and remind me how much I look like dad, before making actual conversation with another adult, and you wonder why Rose and I look for an escape?"

I looked at Rose; she was smiling, which was earning her a glare from Uncle Ron. This was my only opportunity to save some face, and I was going to take it.

"Rose, feel like finishing that game we were playing? I don't think I'm hungry anymore. Excuse us, please," I said, and Rose and I joined hands and walked to the sitting room to play some Snap.

We played the rest of the evening, most of which was accompanied by a steady beat of self-righteous cacophony, which Rose and I blissfully ignored. Sure, there were consequences; I was watched much more closely, both Rose and I got a good talking-to about the importance of history and family, and James started his "you're going to Slytherin" nonsense. And it wasn't as though the tedious comparisons to Dad and Aunt Hermione stopped then, either. But it was that moment there that galvanised Rose and I as a team, and turned us into a force later on in childhood. Before that, we were the best of friends. Afterwards, we had a common cause.


	19. Molly Prewett and Arthur Weasley

**Collisions**

_(Molly Prewett/Arthur Weasley)_

_by _

_Bad Mum (Ravenclaw)_

"Shut it, Weasley!" Daniel Burnett tells his friend firmly, punching him on the arm.

"What?" Arthur looks confused as he rubs his arm and scowls at Daniel. "I wasn't saying anything."

Carlo Peres laughs. "He doesn't mean shut up saying anything," he explains slowly and carefully, as if speaking to an idiot or to someone recovering from serious illness. "He means shut your mouth. You were gaping at her again. Practically drooling."

Arthur reddens, and protests, but he knows it is true. He can't keep his eyes off her.

* * *

"He's looking over," Sally Spendlove reports from her perch on the table in the corner.

Monica Springer giggles and bends her head over her parchment, although she is not actually working. "Is he? Are you sure?" she demands.

Sally nods and appeals to Molly, who is scribbling industriously at her Charms essay, apparently oblivious to what her friends are saying.

"Wake up Molly, and tell Mon I'm telling the truth. He is looking this way, isn't he?"

Molly sighs and lays down her quill, but looks up obediently, craning her neck to see round Sally. She is just a few seconds too late.

"Who? Arthur?" she asks, as disinterestedly as she can manage. "He's not looking; he's talking to Daniel and Carlos." She picks up her quill again, and starts writing. "Can I finish this now?" she asks irritably. "I care about my grades if you two don't."

* * *

Molly cannons into Arthur the next morning on her way to Herbology. She is late, and he is equally late heading for his Transfiguration class. Molly's bag and its contents go flying and she finds herself – ridiculously and disproportionately – on the verge of tears. She ducks her head as she scrabbles her books together, hoping he won't see. Arthur is equally busy collecting up her ink and quills and appears to notice nothing untoward.

"I'm sorry," he says, as he hands her things back to her. "I wasn't looking where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Molly shakes her head wordlessly and they go their separate ways.

She thinks he scarcely even looked at her during the whole encounter.

* * *

The notice about the Yule Ball goes up in the common room the following evening. Yule Balls are traditionally reserved for the Triwizard Tournament – but since that hasn't happened in any student's memory, someone (probably Professor Dumbledore in a fit of festive spirit) has decreed that they can have a Ball anyway. Suddenly, the halls and common rooms are alive with whispering about who to invite, and who is going with whom.

"You'll have to actually ask her you know, Art," Daniel points out kindly to his friend, two days after the notice goes up. "Unless you've suddenly become a Legilimens and can do it by thought transfer."

Arthur groans. "It's alright for you," he complains. "You and Rhoda have been together since you were about six, and Carlos can take his pick of any of his fan club. It's harder on us ordinary mortals."

Carlos grins unsympathetically, not denying his undeniable superiority in the girl-attracting department. "Just go and do it," he advises, giving his friend a shove in the direction of the table where Monica, Sally and Molly are sitting. "The worst that can happen is that she turns you down." Arthur looks at him with a pained expression, and Carlos laughs. "It won't kill you if she does," he says bracingly. "Just go and do it. Get it over with."

Arthur can feel his face and ears reddening as he crosses what seems like a mile of carpet between where he was sitting with his friends and the table where the girls are. He is uncomfortably aware that Carlos and Daniel are watching his every move. But he makes it without tripping over his own feet, and manages to stumble through his request.

Monica gives him her kindest smile. "I'd love to come with you, Arthur," she says.

Arthur no longer cares that his face is scarlet and that his friends are laughing at him. Monica Springer, the best-looking girl in the school, the girl he has had fantasies about since before the summer, is going to the Yule Ball with him.

He is the happiest boy in Gryffindor tonight.

* * *

Molly behaves very well. She tells Monica how happy she is for her. She listens to her endlessly repeating how good-looking Arthur is, how gentle, how nice. She puts up with the inevitable _"What on earth am I going to wear?"_ conversation. And if she sheds a few quiet tears in the privacy of her four-poster at night, no one knows it but herself.

Against all her expectations, Molly enjoys the ball. She goes with a mixed group of unattached Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, and dances with more boys than she can keep track of. She laughs with Sally, and with Perdita Pardoe of Hufflepuff (who is empty-headed and flighty, but good fun on occasions like this). She groans along with the rest at Gideon and Fabian's jokes, and goes as far as to deny that they are related to her after a particularly bad one. And all evening she makes a conscious effort not to look at Arthur and Monica, who seem to be the victims of some sort of Sticking Charm which makes it impossible for them to separate from each other.

Until the last dance, when her eyes seem to find them if their own accord, and she feels tears pricking.

"Want to dance, sis?" Fabian doesn't give her a chance to reply, but grabs her hand and tugs her onto the dance floor. As they whirl around he leans forward and whispers, "He's an idiot, Arthur Weasley. Monica's all fluffy blonde hair and look-at-me. You're so much nicer. And not just because you have the advantage of having me as a brother."

Molly laughs slightly shakily, but cannot think of an answer. She does not ask Fabian how he knew what she was feeling. He has a knack of being scarily all-knowing at times, especially where his sister and brother are concerned.

* * *

"So are you going out with him or not?" Sally demands. The Gryffindor fourth year girls are getting dressed a week or so after the beginning of term, and the chatter in the dormitory dies down as everyone waits for Monica's answer.

Monica groans and flops back down onto her bed. "I don't know," she complains. "I thought we were, but he's hardly spoken to me since term started."

"Maybe he's just shy," Diane Donahue suggests. "He does go bright red and stutter like an idiot every time you're near him."

Monica smiles complacently. "Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" she says. "That must mean something."

"It's Hogsmeade this weekend," Sally says. "Say something to him that sort of assumes you think he's going with you and see how he reacts."

"Like what?" asks Monica, who may be pretty, but is sometimes slow on the uptake.

Sally rolls her eyes. "Oh, use your brain, Mon!" she admonishes her friend. "Just ask him where you are going to meet on Saturday morning or something. That's a broad enough hint, even for the dimmest of boys."

"Arthur's not dim!" Monica protests. "Is he, Molly?"

Molly shakes her head. "No of course he's not. But you should try what Sally says. Then you'd know where you stand."

"_So would I_,_" _she thinks, but she does not say it out loud.

* * *

Of course, Arthur is delighted to be going to Hogsmeade with Monica.

"Of course he is," Molly tells herself firmly as she looks out her scarf and gloves in the girls' dormitory. "Of course he is. And you should be glad for her. She's your friend. Your _best_ friend."

She checks the mirror before she leaves the room, uncomfortably aware that Sally is waiting for her in the common room, and that she will inevitably spot any remaining traces of the tears Molly could not hold back after Monica skipped off happily to meet her date this morning. She had made a quick escape to the bathroom and stayed there until the stern talking-to she gave herself about pulling herself together and being happy for Monica had some effect.

Now she thinks she will be alright and get through the day without disgracing herself. Unless Fabian says something too perspicacious or Gideon makes the wrong joke about lovebirds…

* * *

Molly gets through the day – although she has a sticky moment when she spots Arthur and Monica sitting at a table in the window of Dolores Dingle's Teashop holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. She _suddenly_ remembers she needs a new quill and hurries Sally off down the road to Scrivenshaft's to save herself from looking at them.

But in the days and weeks that follow, she cannot help but see them. It seems that every time she goes into the common room, Arthur and Monica are there, squashed into the big chair in the corner, apparently glued together and oblivious to everything else going on around them. She thinks bitterly that she seems to be under some sort of haunting curse, because it is not just in the common room she encounters them – it is in the Library, in the stands watching Gryffindor flatten the Ravenclaws at Quidditch, in every corridor she walks along. And if she does escape the two of them together, Monica is there, holding forth on how wonderful Arthur is, how much she loves him, how this is definitely the _real thing_.

Molly has given up crying in private about how unfair it is, how much she would like to be the one going out with Arthur, how she would like to hate Monica – though she can't, because she is her best friend. She is almost resigned to it now. Arthur loves Monica. He will never look twice at her. That is just the way it is.

* * *

A week into February, Molly is late for Herbology again and runs bang into someone as she rounds the last corner to the Entrance Hall. Both their bags go flying, and as Molly stoops to retrieve hers, she is cursing the luck that this will make her even later than she already is, and cursing even more the fact that the person who has almost knocked her off her feet is Arthur Weasley. Can't he leave her alone, for Godric's sake?

Arthur for his part, having picked up his own bag and a handful of scattered quills, is looking at Molly with something approaching revelation. Up to now she has been nothing to him but "Monica's friend". Suddenly he is realising that she is a person in her own right, and a remarkably pretty one at that.

"What?" Molly asks irritably, looking at his open mouth and reddening cheeks. "What's the matter?"

Arthur closes his mouth with a snap and shakes his head. "Nothing," he mutters. "I mean, I'm sorry I ran into you. Are you okay?"

Molly glares at him. "Yes, I'm fine. But I was late already, and you've made me later. Look where you're going in future."

This is grossly unfair, as the collision was at least as much her fault as his, but Arthur decides not to answer. For some reason he doesn't seem able to think of anything coherent to say. And his feet seem rooted to the floor. He is still standing in the same place, his face red and his expression slightly spellshocked as Molly turns abruptly on her heel and sets off rapidly out of the door for her lesson.

* * *

"Well, tell her," Carlos says in exasperation, two evenings later in the dormitory as the boys are getting ready for bed. "Just tell her you don't want to go out with her any more. It's not that hard."

Daniel grins as his head emerges from the pyjama top he has just tugged on. "Carlos should know. He chucks girls on a pretty regular basis. Though why you should _want_ to chuck her after mooning after her since before the summer is beyond me."

"Ah," Carlos says, laughing, "Wanting something is so much better than actually having it. So the wise ones say…"

Arthur groans and throws a pillow at him. "What the hell do you know about wise ones, idiot?" he demands. "It's not that I don't _like_ her any more, it's just… Oh, I don't know." He rolls over so that his back is to his friends, and refuses to discuss the matter further, despite them persisting in niggling him about it for a full fifteen minutes more.

The truth is that, while he still likes Monica, while he still thinks she is far and away the best-looking girl in the school, he has discovered that he wants more than a pretty face and a vague liking for someone. He is discovering just how self-centred a beautiful girl can be, how clingy Monica in particular can be, how – he has to be honest – how remarkably _thick_ she is on occasion. He doesn't dislike her, but he is getting fed up with having to spend almost every waking minute with her. He doesn't think love is supposed to be like this.

But he has the disadvantage of being one of those people who are so fundamentally nice that he doesn't like to hurt anyone. He knows – and he hopes he is not being vain in this – that Monica really cares for him. He knows that if he tells her he no longer wants to go out with her, he will hurt her. And he doesn't want to do that.

But he knows too that he can't go on like this much longer.

(He ruthlessly suppresses all thoughts of Molly Prewett from his brain. Yes, she is very pretty, with a lovely smile and gorgeous eyes and hair. Yes, she has a lot more spark to her than Monica could ever manage. But she is Monica's best friend. Even if he somehow freed himself from Monica, she would be out of bounds. Anyway, there is no way that a bright and popular girl like Molly would look at a gawky, shy, tongue-tied boy like him. He must not think about her.)

* * *

"You don't care about me, Arthur Weasley! You only care about yourself!" Monica stops and draws a shaky breath before delivering the killer line. "You're dumped!" With that, she bursts into tears and heads for the girls' staircase, the faithful Sally and Molly hot on her heels. (Molly glances back as she reaches the foot of the stairs. For someone who has been very publically ditched, Arthur looks remarkably cheerful, if slightly embarrassed at the scene he has just been part of.)

Monica is face down on her bed, her shoulders heaving with sobs. "How could he?" she gasps. "How could anyone forget Valentine's Day?"

Sally and Molly make all the right noises and rub her back and say yes, of course Monica had to get rid of him after that, and they really didn't blame her at all, any girl would have done the same. Molly keeps to herself the feeling that Arthur knew perfectly well what day it was, and engineered the whole thing so that he wouldn't have to be the one doing the dumping. Monica would not like to hear that. Being the in-the-right one who does the dumping is so much better than being the slighted one who is dumped.

* * *

Three days later, Molly is hurrying along the second floor corridor on her way to Charms, and narrowly avoids crashing into a group of fifth year boys just leaving the Defence classroom. Arthur is in their midst. Molly can't help but notice that he is looking at her with more than normal attention.

But she shakes herself, murmurs, "Excuse me," and heads for her lesson without looking back. Arthur might be nominally free, but he is still Monica's ex, and Monica is her friend. She must not think of him as anything but Monica's ex-boyfriend. She must not think of him.

* * *

But over the next few weeks, she finds it impossible to avoid him. He sits next to her at breakfast, studiously avoiding looking at Monica, but engaging Molly in slightly stilted conversation about the news in the _Prophet_ or the awfulness of his Arithmancy homework. He joins her at a table in the Library, smiling at her but saying nothing in case Madam Crack throws the pair of them out for talking. He seems to be in the common room every time Molly goes in there. And she is always running into him in the corridors.

However hard she tries, she cannot think of him as just the boy who used to go out with her best friend. He is kind, he is good-looking, he is funny and gentle and sweet and… He is everything she would want in a boy, and Molly knows she is more in love with him now than she was three months ago when he asked Monica to the Yule Ball.

She cannot believe no one has noticed. To her, her feelings are so obvious that she might as well have "I love Arthur Weasley" tattooed across her forehead. But no one says anything; not even Sally, who is usually an expert at noticing who fancies whom, or Fabian, who is being uncharacteristically tactful if he does realise that his sister still cares about Arthur. Monica herself has not mentioned his name since the end of February. Molly thinks that she probably has her sights set on someone else already. Monica is never long without a boy (or two) in tow.

* * *

Halfway through March, on a showery blustery day, Molly is hurrying back from Herbology, thinking only of getting up to the common room and getting warm, when she runs into Arthur, Carlos and Daniel in the Entrance Hall. She drops her bag, which splits, sending the contents everywhere, including a bottle of ink, which shatters on the marble floor. Molly could cry. Why is this always happening to her? And why is bloody _Arthur Weasley_ always there when it does?

The three boys are gathering up her books and quills into an untidy pile, and she just sits there on the floor and lets them. Then Carlos punches Arthur on the shoulder, Daniel bends and whispers something which sounds like, "Go for it!" to him, and suddenly the two of them are alone. Arthur flicks his wand to clear up the pools of ink on the floor and repairs Molly's bag with a second spell before he looks at her properly.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, as she takes the stack of books he is holding out to her and shoves them back into the bag.

She nods and mutters something which might be, "Yes." Actually, she is wishing he would go away so that she can run to the dormitory and just cry. Why can't she avoid him, for Godric's sake? It really isn't fair.

"Why are you crying then?" Arthur asks, putting out an inky hand and raising her chin so that he can see her properly.

"I'm not!" Molly swallows hard, but there are tears on her cheeks and she knows it.

Arthur smiles at her. "Molly, I…" Suddenly he seems lost for words, and Molly sees that his face is glowing red. What on earth is going on?

Arthur picks up a quill that has been forgotten, and holds it out to her. "Come for a walk with me?" he asks abruptly. "Tonight? Round the lake? Please?"

Molly takes the quill and stows it away in her bag in a daze. As if from a long way away, she hears a girl who must be herself saying, "Yes, I'd like that," but she isn't sure if she is dreaming.

Arthur smiles and gets to his feet. "Meet you here at seven then," he says happily, extending a hand to pull her to her feet.

She nods wordlessly, and then he has smiled at her again, and is gone.

Molly smiles too as she shoulders her bag and heads for the stairs, but there is one worry at the back of her mind. What _on earth_ is she going to say to Monica?


	20. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy

**Happy Valentines Day Love**

_(Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy)_

_by _

_Chibi Roxas 13 (Gryffindor)_

The dorm had gone silent hours ago before Harry silently crawled out of bed, grabbing his invisibility cloak from his trunk underneath his bed. Throwing it over himself, Harry made his way out of the boy's dorm and out through the portrait of the Fat Lady, briskly walking through the hall and making his way to the enchanted staircase.

Once Harry had reached the ground floor, he checked

down the halls for any sign of prefects or teachers before he dashed to the large oak doors of Hogwarts, opening them slightly so he could shimmy through easily.

It was nearly midnight and the night was fairly warm, a full moon hanging high in the clear night sky, helping Harry find his way across the wooden bridge and down the step hill towards the black lake.

It only took moments before Harry was at his destination, a large tree sitting just on the edge of the illuminated lake. Harry looked around and found no one was there, so he removed the cloak and took a spot underneath the tree. He laid back and gazed at the sky, feeling his heart flutter in his chest. Unconsciously, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter tied in a silky red ribbon. Harry sat up and untied the bow and opening the letter.

Meet me by the lake at midnight.

D.

Harry read over the letter time and time again, admiring the familiar handwriting and feeling lightheaded with excitement.

"Hello." A smooth voice said from behind Harry, causing the chosen one to jump slightly.

The raven-haired teen turned around a smile forming on his lips. "Hello."

Draco Malfoy returned the smile, coming down and joining Harry on the ground; leaning in and placing a soft kiss on the others lips. Harry pushed in closer deepening the kiss, a hand finding Draco's and lacing their fingers together. The two stayed like that for a few more minutes before breaking the kiss and breathing heavily. Green orbs met piercing gray as they two held each other in a loving embrace.

Draco laid them both down on the ground, not taking his gaze from Harry's, a soft smile on his face.

**Flashback**

Harry had never liked Valentines Day. Ever since Ginny had broken up with him and decided to go back with Dean Thomas, he had grown to hate the day. The boy who lived sat in potions, listening onto the droning monotone voice that was Snape. He stared at the cauldron in the front of the room, not really making any scence of what was coming out of the potions masters mouth.

A loud slam on Harrys desk brought the teen back to the present time. He looked up as Snape glared down at him. "Mr. Potter, will you please answer the question."

Harry looked out of the corner of his eye at Hermione who was staring expectantly at him. "I-I'm sorry sir, what was the question?"

Snape sneered at him. "Exactly Mr. Potter, now best pay attention before you flunk my class. 20 points from Gryffindor. "

Harry sat back, eyes rolling. This day couldn't get any worse.

Five minutes later and the class was dismissed. Harry stuffed his books, pen, ink and parchment into his side bag angrily, and quickly getting out of that damned classroom.

"Harry!" he stopped as he was climbing the staircase of the dungeons, as Hermione hurriedly ran to his side. "Are you feeling alright? You've been distracted all day. "

"I'm fine Hermione. Honestly." He replied dryly, as the two begin to go up the stairs.

"Harry, please. If something is going on I want to help you. You can tell me anything." Hermione said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I know Hermione, but I swear I'm fine."

**End Flashback**

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked silently, as Draco stared out at the lake, stroking his arm gently.

He glanced at Harry. "I guess….I'm thinking about how nice tonight is, and-" he pauses momentarily, resting his head back against the tree. "how much I love you."

Harry blushed, closing his eyes and listening to the gentle beat of Draco's heart.

**Flashback**

Hermione had left Harry in order to find Ron, _and snog_ Harry thought.

The other students were making their way to the Great Hall for lunch. As he entered, the hall was already bustling with noise of excited students and the _clang_ of silverwhere on plates. Harry took a seat at the gryffindor table near Neville, Fred and George.

As soon as Harry sat, he began to grab spoonfuls of corn and potatoes filling his plate in seconds.

Neville scoched closer to him as Harry begun to eat.

"Harry, did you by any chance get that assignment for third period's transfiguration lesson?" He asked quietly, taking a bite of his turkey.

The teen nodded. "Let me get it for you." He sets down his spoon and goes to grab the homework.

"Well well, has Harry actually done his homework?" George mocked.

Fred laughed. "I think this is a first, or did you have Grangers help?"

Harry scoffed pulling out the work and handing it to Neville. "You know I do have my moments."

The three Gryffindor gave one another a look. After a few moments George spoke up. "So, mate, are you going to be going to the dance?"

"Dance," Harry looked up from his lunch to give a questioning look to the red head, "What dance?"

Fred gave a short laugh. "Um, the Valentine Dance or course."

The raven haired teen looked at him and let out an annoyed sigh. "And why would I go?"

"What are you talking about! Aren't you going with Gin-Oh…" George stopped, his eye's widening and face turning red. "I-I'm sorry mate, I forgo-"

"Forget it." Harry said firmly, slamming his silverwhere on the plate and grabbing his bag, quickly getting up and leaving the great hall.

Just as he neared the big doors, Ron and Hermione were walking in hand in hand.

"Hey mate, what's-" but before Ron could finish, Harry was already out and rushing through the crowd of students

Harry pushed past the students, not caring as they swore at him. Once he was out of the crowed heading to the Great Hall, Harry hurriedly made his way down the hall needing to escape.

A few moments later Harry stopped and leaned against a wall and breathing heavily, his fists clenched tightly. He paused, hearing a soft giggle coming from behind a pillar just a few feet from where he stood. Slowly, Harry crept forward and glanced in the direction of the noise, immediately regretting doing so.

Ginny was in Deans arms, lips locked in a passionate embrace.

Harry's throat tightened and his heart shattered, head beginning to spin.

_Move!_ His mind screamed.

Slowly, the teen backed away and when the two lovers were out of sight, Harry turned and ran.

In a flash, Harry found himself at the door to the boy's lavatory. He felt his body shaking and took in uneasy breaths to calm himself. Shaking his head, Harry opened the door slowly. As he entered he heread someone else in there as well.

"What the hell is wrong with me!" _slam_

Harry abruptly stopped, eye's widening slightly.

_Malfoy?_ He thought questioningly, taking light steps further into the bathroom. He saw Malfoy standing against a wall, forehead against the wall and his right fist lightly punching at the cold stone with a book held tightly in his left hand. Harry noted the shaking of the boy's shoulders. _Is he, crying? Well this is something new._

The blonde teen slowly slid down the wall and sat against it. He lifted the mysterious book in hand and flipped through the pages. Harry watched as Malfoy's crying had slowed. The blond ran a hand through his somewhat disheveled hair before rubbing his head wearily, an irritated look crossing his face.

"Who am I kidding?" He looked down at himself and got up quickly, moving to stand in front of the sink. "I'm a Malfoy..this..I-I should be feeling…this whole thing is ridiculous!"

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. _What in the bloody hell is he going on about?_

Malfoy sighed. "Damn it."

The blond looked down again at the book and shook his head. He glanced around quickly before turning back to the wall Harry had first seen him at. Malfoy muttered a quick spell and a brick from the wall vanished. The raven haired teen watched as Malfoy placed the book inside it and muttered yet another spell, the brick appearing again.

Malfoy turned and just as he did, Harry pressed himself against the well next to the pillar. Harry held his breath as Malfoy passed him, who stopped momentarily, shook his head and continued on to exit the bathroom. Slowly, Harry quietly stepped away from the wall; eye's not leaving the doors in case the slytherin came back. When he was sure it was safe, Harry ran to the wall where Malfoy had hidden the book.

Harry takes his wand out from his robe and points it at the stone.

"_Defodio_" He mutters a few times watching as the stone begins to get dug into.

Moments later and the stone breaks to the hollow place where Malfoy's book was. Harry reached inside and grabbed it.

_Well, it appears that the sniveling weasel has a diary of some sort. Either that or things from his father._ Harry smirked. He placed his wand back into his pocket and opened the book excitedly.

The first entry Harry realized was from first year.

December 8

I have no idea why my father has sent me to this dreadful school. It's full of the most foul and disgusting people I have ever met. And most annoying is the bloody golden boy that EVERYONG drools over. That stupid Potter is full of hot air is what he is. Not to mention he has the entire school bowing at his fe-

Harry quickly turned the pages. The next was dated to their 4th year.

_January 5_

_Why me! I have been harboring these ridiculous feelings for how long, a month…maybe 3…A YEAR, no it's definitely been longer. I thought that dating Pansy would settle these, these ridiculous feelings! But it hasn't! What would my mother, my FATHER, think if they found out about this?_

_At the first task, when I saw that dragon go at him like that, I-I almost lost it…I went to bed that night waking from a horrible nightmare that ended in disaster._

The next part of the entry was torn out. Harry's face showed nothing but confusion. _What is Malfoy rambling on about?_ He wondered to himself, again flipping, this time to the most recent entry, dated back from two day's ago.

_February 10_

_As usual Harry and the Weasley-_

Harry froze, eye's widening. _Is he talking about me?_ Harry gulped and pushed to read on.

_-were late for class. I don't think I'll ever understand their friendship. It's been hard these past months coming to terms with my feelings. Even though I can't stop them, I can't admit them to anyone. _

_Harry and the Weaslett had been dating for a while now. The breakup was hard…I can tell. Harry has seemed so, lost? I can tell how much he has hurt, and the stupid red head as soon as she broke up with him ran to that other bloody Gryffindor. It makes me sick._

_I wish I could comfort him. For merlins sake I wish I could tell him, tell him how I feel. But, I already know what would happen. Ugh…I've gotten soft, listen to me pouring these feelings, these sodding mushy feelings and for the chosen one no less! How in the world did this happen? How in the world could I, Draco Malfoy, be gay? How in the world did I fall in love with Harry James Potter? I ask myself this everyday, and yet I can't seem to come up with an answer. _

_This feeling I have isn't getting any easier to deal with, I honestly can't ignore it anymore. I-I think I should tell him, even though it'll ruin me, my reputation, and my family name. Somehow though…and I have thought a great deal about this, somehow, I don't care about my reputation or the name. I only care…how much my already broken heart won't be able to heal. But, even if he hates me…this is something I must do…_

Harry didn't realize he had slid to the floor and that his whole body was shaking. Green eyes were wide and unblinking as he stared and re-read the entry over and over again and face blushing madly.

The teen closed the book and slammed it onto the ground. _What the hell am I thinking! I-It's absolutely disgusting! _The blush darkens, if at all possible._ Stop blushing! Why am I? No…NO! I am not, and WILL NOT think of Draco soding Malfoy IN THAT WAY! _He smacks himself.

After a few moments Harry glares back at the book. "Reading this was a horrible idea."

**End Flashback**

"What are you thinking of?" The smooth voice above him asked, hand now stroking raven locks.

Harry sighs. "When…I found your book."

Draco stops abruptly and looks down. "Something wrong?" he asks, voice laced with concern.

Harry shakes his head and mumbles. "Nothing at all."

Draco leans down and kisses the top of his head. "You can tell me you know."

"Yeah, I know." Harry sighs again. "I just…it's strange I suppose."

Draco cocks his head to the side as Harry rolls onto his back to look up at the blond teen. "It's strange that we ended up together." Harry laughs lightly, and Draco gave a confused look. "I mean…I just never thought that, we felt this way about one another, and that we would be this happy." Harry smiles.

**Flashback**

Harry hurriedly ran down the hill towards Hagrid's hut, face still flushed and mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

Harry had hid the book again and restored the wall. He didn't know what to do. One part of him screamed to curse Malfoy for a century, another part of him told him to civilly confront the slytherin, and the other told him to just ignore it and pretend like it had never existed. Harry chose three, though his mind said otherwise. Pages from the book popped into his head over and over, and pushing them to the back of his mind was giving Harry a headache.

Harry finally reached the hut, just as Hagrid was giving instructions for the day's lesson.

"Ah 'arry, thought you weren't comin. I've just given out tha groups fer tha day. You and Mr. Malfoy are partnered." Hagrid said as he handed Harry a set of parchment, not noticing the raven haired teens face paled.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione who gave them the '_I'm sorry_' face.

Regrettably Harry turned to the blond slytherin prince surrounded by his other house mates who were glaring dagger's at Harry.

Pansy grabbed Malfoy's arm. "There is no way he is working with you, Draco." She starred as Harry like he was a contagious disease and then turned to look at Hagrid. "Cant anyone else be Potter's partner?"

Hagrid started 'sternly' at her. "Mr. Malfoy had no partner and 'arry just made it in tha nick o' time fer class"

Pansy stepped forward. "But that's no-"

"Mrs. Parkinson, if you'll please begin on tha' assignment, 'r else ya get detention." Hagrid said firmly, walking over to help Neville and Dean.

Pansy let out an angry huff, turning back and giving Malfoy a depressed look. "I'm sorry Draco, that stupid half giant wo-"

"Don't worry about it Pansy." Malfoy said coldly and looked at Harry. "Let's go Potter."

Harry stood in place frozen, praying this all were some horrible nightmare. _Move._ He thought mentally, and his feet started to move following the blond into the woods.

As Harry followed Malfoy, he couldn't help but feel his eye's wander lower till they finally stopped.

_He does have a nice as-WHAT! No, what the hell am I thinking! DISGUSTING _Harry moved his eye's and mentally cursed himself. _What the bloody hell has gotten into me!_

Before he realized Malfoy had stopped, Harry accidently bumped into the blond. Harry jumped back slightly mouth gaping. "S-sorry."

Malfoy turned and surprisingly didn't return his usually sneer and comment. "Don't worry about it" was all he mumbled.

Harry gave Malfoy an odd look before sitting down on a nearby fallen tree and opening his Monster Book of Monsters. "Ehem, so, what lesson are we doing today?" He asked coolly, flipping through the pages to find the last lesson they had been on.

"Unicorns." The blond replied quietly.

Harry stopped right on the page and began looking at the notes in the book, trying with all his might to over come the tension in the air and hide his reddening cheeks.

Malfoy let out a sigh causing the chosen one to look up. The blond was leaning against a tree, book unopened on the ground, looking in the direction from which they had come. As Harry followed the gaze for a slight second, he let out a gasp, eye's widened slightly in surprise. "Malfoy, how far into the forest are we supposed to be?"

"Relax, we haven't gone that far." Malfoy said, twiddling his thumbs slightly.

A few moments of awkward silence passed between them as Harry attempted to ignore the thickness in the air and concentrate on his work. But as the seconds ticked by slowly, Harry began to feel a burning gaze piercing gaze burned into the top of his head. "Listen," Malfoy paused, "I…I wanted to talk with you ab- "

"Listen, as much as I'd like to have a civil conversation with you_ Draco _I- "

"Will you shut your bloody mouth for a second Potter!" Malfoy shouted causing Harry to jump. "I'm serious."

Harry gulped felling his face begin to flush._ Oh god, why did it have to be now. I was hoping to avoid this. _He thought numbly closing his work into the class book before taking a breath and looking at Malfoy. "Okay, I'm listening."

Harry stared at the blond who looked away and Harry couldn't help but notice the pale face suddenly turning pink and his own heart race speeding.

"Well what is it?"

Malfoy stared back again, gray eye's meeting emerald. "I…I like you…."

And just like that, Harry's blood ran cold. The moment he had been dreading since he had read that final entry in the journal was here, and he didn't know what to do. He stared at Malfoy, mouth open in disbelief. The teen gave a hard laugh shaking his head. Harry stood; eye's not leaving the blond.

Malfoy stepped forward, holding a hand out to stop Harry. "Listen, please, just for a second. I-I know how this sounds and," He stared at Harry pleadingly, "I assure you Harry, this isn't a joke."

Harry turned his gaze to his feet, backing away till he made contact with a tree. Harry didn't notice that Malfoy had walked up to him till a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his daze.

"Ar-are you okay?"

Harry gulped and shook his head. "This is not happening."

Malfoy stared into Harry's eyes. "I am being completely honest with you about this! Y-you have no idea how…how scared I am admitting this too you! I-I didn't believe it un- "

"Fourth year." Harry muttered, averting his gaze.

"Four-wait…How did you know that?" Malfoy's voice raised slightly. When Harry didn't answer, Malfoy grabbed his chin roughly and turned his face to look at him. "You…you found it?"

Harry struggled to get out of Malfoy's grasp, glaring daggers at him. "I don't know what your talking about."

"My journal!" Malfoy yelled, cheeks reddening.

Harry looked into the grey eyes of his long time nemesis and could see sadness, hurt, and anger mixed into one. He gulped before answering. "Okay, yes. I-I found it." His cheeks begun to flush pink.

Malfoy released Harry's chin and took a step back. "So. You believe me now? You going to tell everyone in the school?" He stared at Harry stoically.

"No, Draco." Harry shook his head. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

Malfoy looked surprised for a moment before he spat. "Don't do it out of pity, Potter. Spare me."

"I'm not doing it out of pity. I'm doing it because…I-I understand how hard this is for you…and it's just something I wouldn't do, okay?" Harry said silently, and leaned back against the tree, gaze turning downwards.

Silence fell between them again, the only noise pricing the silence was the rustling of the tree's as the soft, warm wind blew. Harry let out a sigh. " Listen we- " But before Harry could say anything, Harry was pressed firmly against the tree, Malfoy's lips pressed to his, and Harry's eye's went wide.

Harry struggled to get the blond off him and when he felt a hand snake under his shirt and lightly caress his stomach, the raven haired teen let out a gasp. Malfoy took the opportunity to slip his tong into Harry's open mouth.

Harry continued to struggle, silently damning the blond for having the upper hand and firmly pinning him to the tree. He felt his cheeks heat up and heart race as Malfoy deepened the kiss, his hand still touching Harry's skin, causing the other to shiver.

"Mgf ohf." Harry tried speaking, eye's clenched shut. Malfoy moved from Harry's lips and begun planting light kisses along Harry's cheek, slowly descending to his neck where he lightly bit and sucked.

"S-stop." Harry stammered, just as he was about to speak again, Malfoy bit the part of the neck where it met the shoulder, causing Harry to gasp again. "Get off me!"

Malfoy was to lost to care. He swore he wouldn't do this, but now that he had what he wanted, he didn't want it to end, even as Harry struggled and told him to stop.

Harry bit his lip hard, beginning to taste blood, as his mind begun to haze over and he forced himself not to give in. _I-I…get...away. _He thought, almost drunkenly, slowly feeling himself losing to the euphoria that the slytherin prince was giving him. Harry hardly noticed as the blond began to unbutton his sweater and white shirt, till the cool air hit Harry's exposed chest. At that instant Harry's eye's shot open and he shoved the distracted blond to the ground, breathing heavily and body shaking.

Malfoy looked at Harry who was in complete and total shock. The blond looked away before taking in a shaky breath and looking back at Harry sorrowfully. "H-Harry…I'm so-so sorry, I…" He stopped and watched as Harry hurriedly buttoned his clothes and grabbed his belongings. "I didn't mean for…to…Harry!" He grabbed Harry's arm just as the raven haired teen was leaving. "Please, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to-to do that."

Harry harshly took his arm back. "Yeah…well, you did." And with that Harry turned and left back towards Hargrids.

"Harry! There you are." Hermione said cheerfully, coming to his side just as the class was being dismissed.

"Yeah, we've been wondering where you went off to mate." Ron said coming next to Harry and giving a laugh. "You sort out Malfoy there or what? I mean since no one saw you two all class."

Harry took a deep breath in attempts to calm himself. "Yeah, I sorted him out."

Ron smiled and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Excellent! You'll have to tell me all the juicy details over dinner."

*4 hours later*

The boy who lived sat gazing at the blazing fire in the gryffindor common room. Since the end of Care of Magical Creatures, Harry had hardly spoken and when Ron asked him over dinner about what had happened between him and the blond, Harry had almost forgotten he had said he 'took care of Malfoy' to Ron right as they were heading to 3rd period.

Hermione had shot worried glances to him and asked a few times if Harry was alright, and it took a moment for Harry to realize she had been speaking to him. And he would give the girl the same excuse.

"Harry, mate."

Harry jumped and looked to see Ron with a hand on his shoulder and a worried expression on his face. "Sorry. Did you say something?" Harry asked.

Ron gave a confused look. "I was asking if you were ready for bed, I'm heading up now."

"Oh, um," Harry stopped and looked back to the fire, "no that's alright. I'm going to stay up a bit longer."

Ron gave a low sigh before giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "Alright mate. I'll see you in the morning."

After a few moments, Harry heard the door to the boy's dorms open and close, leaving him to sit in the quiet common room alone.

His thoughts went back to what had happened earlier.

_I just want to forget this all happened, so why cant I? _He thought letting out a sigh.

_**Malfoy stared back again, gray eye's meeting emerald. "I…I like you…."**_

_**Malfoy stepped forward, holding a hand out to stop Harry. "Listen, please, just for a second. I-I know how this sounds and," He stared at Harry pleadingly, "I assure you Harry, this isn't a joke."**_

The voice echoed in his head and Harry felt his face begin to flush as Malfoy said his name.

_**Malfoy's hair.**_

_**Malfoy's soft gaze at him.**_

_**Malfoy's body pressed to his.**_

_**Malfoy's lips on his.**_

_**Malfoy's soft touch on his skin**_

"UGH!" Harry sat forward and grabbed his head, staring angrily at the floor.

"_**I…I like you…."**_

"_**Harry!"**_

"_**Please, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to-to do that."**_

_**Pleading eye's staring into his angry ones.**_

Harry sat back, a look of sorrow crossing his face. Unconsciously, a hand made its way to his lips and silently touched them, heart racing as though Malfoy's lips were on his still.

Harry stared up at the ceiling, and felt his eye's begin to sting slightly. He sat forward again and looked at the flames.

"I like you too."

Draco looked sadly at his journal in hand; eye's red and slightly puffy.

After Care of Magical creatures, the blond teen had immediately headed for the dungeons, feeling too ill to deal with the rest of the day.

Draco laughed. "So stupid of me." The harsh lump that formed in his throat tightened. _You knew this would happen, there's nothing you can do now._

Harry ran down the flight of moving staircases as quickly, and quietly as possible. Hidden under the invisibility cloak and with the marauders map in hand, the chosen one flew down to the first level, and hurriedly ran to the place he knew the other would be.

The large door was in sight and Harry slowed his pace as he got to it. Raising his wand, he looked at the map again. The hallways were clear, save for Snape at the entrance of the Great Hall. And behind the door Harry now stood in front of was the blond slytherin prince, _his _slytherin prince.

Slowly Harry pushed the door open he stepped in and closed it quietly behind him.

Draco's head rested against the wall of his journals hiding place, looking up at the vast moon light that pooled into the room, seemingly lost in thought.

Harry made his way over, heart beating faster then it ever had before and a queasy feeling growing in his stomach. When he was close enough, the raven haired teen stopped.

"Draco." He said quietly, and the blond jumped in alarm.

"W-who's there?" He demanded, getting to his feet quickly and glaring around the room in search of the speaker.

Harry took a deep breath, swallowing his pride and putting every other thought out of mind except for Draco.

"It's me." He replied, and took the invisibility cloak off and tossing it aside.

Draco paused for a moment, looking surprised before angrily shaking his head. "What the bloody hell do you want _Potter_" He spat, glaring daggers at Harry. "Come to tell me off some more."

Harry sighed, shifting his feet nervously before looking at Draco. "No, I-I came to talk."

"Oh right, _NOW_ you want to talk." He laughed dryly, turning away from the chosen and placing his book back into the hole in the wall. "To what do I owe this visit, Potter?"

"Us."

Draco stopped just as he was about to close the wall, his back stiffening slightly. Slowly the blond turned to face Harry, a confused look on his face. "What did you just- "

"I wanted to talk about us." Harry took a few steps forward, eye's not leaving Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at Harry like he had three heads. "What the hell do _we _have? Huh Potter?"

He stepped forward till he was in front of Harry. "There is nothing between us." He said angrily, fist clenched and wanting nothing more then to beat the crap out of the other teen.

Harry swallowed hard, mind going slightly numb.

Piercing grey's held green in a tight hold. "Well….do you have anything to say, or are you just here wasting more time?"

_Say something, anything. You have to tell him now!_ Harry thought as he tried to form words.

"Hmf, pathetic." Draco spat.

Harry took another step forward. "Draco wait."

Draco stopped. _Did he just call me Draco?_ He gave Harry another confused look. "D-did you just call me Draco?"

Harry nodded and felt himself unconsciously attack, pressing his lips to Draco's in a passionate kiss, causing the blond to be taken off guard and back into the wall. But just s quickly, Draco gave in to his desires and kissed Harry back with as much for as the other.

After a few moments, Harry slowly backed away; eye's opening slowly and meeting Draco's. The boy who lived pressed his forehead to the Slytherins, the two breathing heavily.

"I like you too, Draco." Harry whispered, eye's closing again, and hands shakily reaching up and slowly running his fingers at the base of Draco's neck.

Draco brought Harry closer to him, arms wrapping around the other and he gave a short laugh. "What brought this up?"

Harry leaned back and returned the laugh. "I-I don't know." He paused for a moment before gazing back at Draco. "After I found the book, I'm not sure what I thought. Shocked I suppose. Then the kiss. Again, surprised; but it felt right. And I didn't realize it till later."

The two leaned forward and kissed again, short and sweetly.

"I'm sorry about before Draco." Harry said as the two got up and Draco covered the wall again.

As the blond turned and took Harry's hands in his, he gave a small smile. "Don't worry about it." His smile grew. "As cheesy and stupid as this sounds, I'm just glade my broken heart has been fixed."

**End Flashback**

"And here we are, a year later." Harry said, happily taking a chocolate from the box that Draco had brought.

Draco laughed. "That's right."

Harry sat up, a wide grin on his face and he gave Draco a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I love you Draco."

Draco returned the smile. "And I love you Harry."

They met in a deep kiss and Draco pulled him closer.

"Happy Valentines Day Love"


End file.
